


Realism

by Silver_Gleam



Series: The Stuff Is Real AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Humor, Can I get a senpai for a03 please?, Confucius is Proud of my Confusion, Confusion, Cursing Galore, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, Get Ready for the Exposition, Graphic Depictions of Inter-Village Bureaucracy, Just General WTF-ery, Major Confusion-Of All Kinds, Other, Panic Attacks, Please Excuse My Sucky Posting, Self-Insert, but really, i don't know how to tag, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 46,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Gleam/pseuds/Silver_Gleam
Summary: She doesn’t know how she got here, and she doesn’t know how to leave. But one thing is certain; she will claw her way to the edge of the universe, if it means getting back to her family. And no anime, manga, story plot, laws of physics, ninjas, Kages, misplaced feelings of belonging, pseudo-families, fangirling, or Naruto’s and Rookie Eleven’s can stop her.





	1. Click-

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I am a lost author wandering through various fanfiction sites, and I have decided to show the world the results of late-night binge-reading coupled with three-month-old story ideas and a lot of sugar.
> 
> AKA I don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying to anyways.
> 
> Constructive criticism is much appreciated. I'll even take flames. I can't promise a regular updating scheduale because the last time I tried that my house burned down, my computer grew legs and went AWOL, and then my dog proved his ancestorial connection to Mr. Peabody by dancing the cha cha on my bed when I woke up one morning. (Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it's close enough.)

She blinks absently, shocked at the scene before her. 

“Well then. Now there’s something you don’t see everyday.”

Indeed, Konoha’s gates were not something one could expect to just magically spring into existence in the middle of the city. 

She awkwardly readjusts her pink beanie, whistling at the sight before her. Just a few moments ago, she remembers being in the city, doing... something. She can’t quite recall, now, but is sure that whatever she was doing wouldn't have ever resulted in her appearing, well, _here_. And _here_ is something she associates with fantasy, and make-believe. The false but quite enjoyable side of life. _Here_ is not a material place, but simply the imaginary setting for an imaginary tale of an imaginary, ninja boy. 

So why the _heck_ is she currently standing at its entrance? 

She blows a bubble, sucks it into her mouth, and pops it, all the while trying to organise her muddled thoughts. It seems that the shock of suddenly appearing in a fictional place is a bit much for her to think around. Sighing, she plops herself onto the ground, uncaring of the dirt on the main path leading into Konoha, ignoring the annoyed looks from the travellers around her. She knows that it’s not exactly a smart idea to sit right in the middle of traffic, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

She rubs at her eyes, chewing her gum distractedly, irritated by the bright sunlight. In the city, tall, magnificent skyscrapers prevent the sun’s glare from becoming too much of a problem, and air conditioning is the number one solution to all of summer’s stifling heat. But in Konoha, situated in the middle of the Land of Fire and almost always portrayed with blue skies and cheery sunshine, heat is a given. Her sweater collar already sticks to her throat, and she has to roll up her sleeves for some relief.

Once she feels a little better, she rubs at her cheeks, trying to think of a reliable course of action. First things first: she needs to find out how she got here, then find her way back. It should be simple, except she can’t really remember how she appeared here. The last thing she remembers doing is walking down the street, making a left on Fifth, taking her cellphone out to answer a call and slipping her earbud out of her ear to listen… And then nothing. The next thing she knows, she’s stumbling forward from some unknown momentum, finding herself facing Konoha’s gates.

Her gum has lost its flavor by now. The civilian travelers grumble about her disturbing the flow, and she rolls her eyes at them. They shouldn’t be complaining. It’s not like they were the ones going through a potential crisis right now. All they had to focus on was getting into Konoha. Her fingertips shake slightly as she digs into her pants pocket. Her uniform for school is ruined from gym, Arts, lunch, and now Konoha’s dirt path. Hah! Her uniform got dirty because of Konoha. Boy, the kind of reaction she could get by telling this story to some of her friends would probably be worth more than a million dollars. Her hand snatches another stick of gum, and she replaces it by habit. Mmm, peppermint. Her favorite flavor. Okay, back to thinking about important things now.

Perhaps these aren’t really Konoha’s gates? Honestly, what are the odds that she was suddenly transported into a fictional universe? She laughs a bit, amused at her previous overreaction. Duh! Of course something like that didn’t happen. Most likely, someone was crazy enough to recreate Konoha somewhere in the States. How she got there is still unknown, but first things first: she should ask for directions. Getting home is her first priority. Actually, before asking for directions, she should probably call her sister. Just to let her know that she would be late in picking up her younger sibling from school, seeing as she was magically teleported-–or most likely kidnapped–-to a wanna-be Konoha.

Feeling much better than before, she stands up, easily slipping on her messenger bag. Jeez, she must’ve been really out of it if she believed that this was actually Konoha. She laughs a little more, slapping a hand to her forehead. My goodness! It was as if logic left her for a few minutes back there.

She calmly walks away from the bustling crowd at Konoha’s gates, finding some shade underneath a tree. There, she flips open the pouch on her bag’s strap, slipping out her phone with practiced ease–-

It falls right through her slippery fingers.

“Shit,” she hisses. For a moment, she doesn’t move, taking care to breathe in counts of eight. Her hands are trembling fiercer than she can ever remember, and her bottom lip is practically vibrating. She feels chilly all over, and her palms are starting to sweat. Goosebumps are traveling up her arms even though it’s probably 400 degrees here, wherever _here_ is, and that’s another damn problem, because shit how did she even get here, how is she going to get home, where _the fuck_ is here, she really can’t deal with all this right now she has to go pick up her sister and holy fUCK–

Breathe in.

...6...7...8.

Breathe out.

...6...7...8.

Her hands are still shaking when she picks up her phone, and her knees feel as unbalanced as popsicle sticks, so she leans against the trunk of the tree she’s currently under and tries to type in her sibling’s number. She pushes the cloth of her beanie over her ear and places the phone against her sweaty cheek–-it’s surface is so cool, but it’s going to be all sticky when she stops talking, she just knows it oh crap–-and the call rings.

It fucking rings.

She nearly breaks down right there because _yes_ signal thank god for signal.

Her chewing picks up speed with each ringtone, and her bubble pops before she can blow it into completion. She doesn’t care too much about that right now, so she licks it back into her mouth and keeps chewing. It’s...taking an awful long time for her sister to pick up. She usually can’t get her sibling off the darn thing. Why is it taking so–-

There’s a click, and she breathes out in relief. “Oh my god, sis, are you okay? You won’t believe–The thing is–Okay so I can’t remember much but I’m in this weird place and I dunno how to get home–”

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

The call drops.

The phone drops.

And she gasps silently.

That was not the voice of her sister. That was not the voice of a seven year old. Seven? Her sister was seven years old? Or was she six? Oh fuck she can’t remember the age of her sister, oh fuck she can’t remember how she got to this place, oh fuck a man A GROWN MAN talked through the phone after SHE CALLED HER SISTER who has her sister is her sister safe–-

Please, if there is a god out there, somewhere, or some strange supernatural being of awesome power, please let them have a kind heart and ensure her sister’s safety, she could care less about whether or not she got teleported to fucking Konoha, but please let her sister be safe!

She blinks rapidly, the unfamiliar sensation of tears searing through her eyes making her even more uncomfortable. Okay, okay, she needs to calm down, she needs to calm down right now. She needs to find her way back to the city, she needs to get to her sister. She needs to save her sister. She does not have the time for a panic attack right now.

She tries to breathe in counts of eight again, but she can’t seem to count correctly past five, and her breath wheezes slightly as it passes through her teeth, and her phone is lying innocently on the ground, right in front of her, right next to her left shoe, and it’s glinting in the sunlight, and the sunlight is reflected into her eye, and she’s hyper aware of everything and yet all she can think of is her sister, her sweet little sister, who is with a _man_ an evil man what is he doing to her who has her phone–-

She snatches up the cell, punches in her sister’s number, and calls. It rings, and rings, and _rings_ –-

 _Click_ –-

She’s too scared to say anything but, for her sister, she needs to save her sister–-

“H-Hello?”

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

The call drops.

She inhales hastily, the air getting trapped somewhere in her throat. She falls to her knees, too unsteady the world is spinning what’s going on what what _what_ –-

Her thumbs move so fast across the screen of her mobile that she only registers what happened after the phone is at her ear, the dial tone beeping for the three-digit emergency line. Yes, she is calling the police. She hates the police, and doesn’t believe in any kind of authority, but they are the only hope she has in finding out who has taken her sister and how she got to this strange Konoha-esque place–-

 _Click_ –-

“H-Hello? Officer, police people, someone kidnapped my sister and someone kidnapped me a-a-and–-”

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

She’s desperate for air, there’s not enough air, she can’t breathe–-

She calls her sister–-

 _Click_ –-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

She calls the police–-

 _Click_ –-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

She calls her sister–-

 _Click_ –-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

She calls her sister–-

 _Click_ –-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

She calls–-

 _Click_ –-

Her sister–-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

Her sister–-

“It is not yet your time. Be patient. Be wise. Farewell until we contact each other again.”

 _Click_ –-

“You have extended the allotted amount of usage for your cellular device. Shutting down.”

 _Click_ –-


	2. Gum Withdrawal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put in a cup of ANBU, half a spoon of Torture and Interogation, add a pinch of Killing Intent, and stir. The result should be a magnificent allergic reaction to anything Naruto-related along with a hefty dosage of gum withdrawal.

She blinks her eyes open, lazily scanning the room she is in. There is a ceiling. There are walls, white in colour, and very bland. She slowly sits up, feeling a little bit woozy, and glances to her right. There are two chairs diagonally across from her, gray in colour, with skinny armrests and barely-cushioned seats that look terribly uncomfortable to sit in. They are pushed up against one of the bland, white walls. There is a gray door. 

Something is wrong. Some sensation of… _wrongness_ is crawling across her skin, giving her goose flesh. She tiredly rubs at her eyes, then directs her wandering, glazed glance over to her left. There is a window. It has two beige curtains, patterned with flowers. It looks over a grassy courtyard where a few children play with a ball. She can see the sun from here, and assumes it must be sometime in early morning or late afternoon. There is also a gigantic mountain with faces…? Mount Rushmore, maybe?

Wait a minute.

She slides out from underneath the covers–-covers? Oh yeah, she was in a bed, right? She shoves her feet into her sneakers, adjusting them as she walks to the window. Those don’t look like the Presidents’ faces, and last she checked Mount Rushmore wasn’t in the city. Wait, city? Was she in a city?

She frowns. No, she is not in a city. She is in a white-walled room, that has a bed, that has an IV machine not in use shoved away into a corner, that smells of that crisp, too-strong, eye-watering stench of cleaning supplies, that has a window over-looking Hokage Mountain.

Oh.

_Oh._

She blinks. So, Konoha. Right, yeah, she was walking to pick up her sister, but then suddenly she was in front of Konoha’s gates. Except they weren’t Konoha’s gates, because Konoha doesn’t exist, so she called her sister to find out what was going on. But a man answered, and then everything gets a little fuzzy, but she’s sure that she probably had a panic attack and lost consciousness. And now she’s in a hospital. 

She sighs. “Well. That...could’ve gone better than I expected.”

The door slides open and she spins around. She immediately identifies the person entering as ANBU. They are the only ones who wear those kinds of masks, as far as she can recall. Which isn’t much, because her brain feels too big, like it’s swollen, and memories are flickering through her vision every time she blinks, everything is too fast and too slow and she’s so worried about her sister, she has no idea what’s going on but no. No. She must stay in control. She has to find her way back to her sister. Screw her memory, screw Konoha, screw her phone. She just has to focus on getting back to her sister.

He–-and she’s very sure it’s a male–-clears his throat loudly, interrupting her quickly-deteriorating train of thought. Her gaze snaps instantly to his mask–-and isn’t that weird, how is she supposed to make eye contact when she can’t see his eyes due to the style of the mask and the angle with which he tilts his face–-and he bows.

“Darekaga sugu ni shusseki suru tame ni kimasu.” (Someone will come to attend you immediately)

She stares.

“Uh, sorry?”

He straightens up, and even though his posture remains focused and appropriately at attention, she realizes that something in the atmosphere has shifted.

“Nani tte itta no?”(What did you say?), he asks. She can’t understand a lick of it.

“What?” she asks, eyeing him wearily. The language he is speaking reminds her of Japanese, but she can’t be sure. Things are a little strange inside her head right now. She knows that she is female, and she understands that she is in a foreign location, previously assumed to be an imaginary one used as the main setting for an anime/manga series. She remembers being in a city and having a family, in particular a sister and… and a brother. Did she have a brother? Yes, she had a brother. It seems that if she tries, like, really really REALLY hard, she can sort of make sense of all the...nonsense in her head.

That still doesn’t help her current inability to understand the ninja right in front of her.

She sighs, drawing it out as long as possible, her shoulders slumping down as her whole body sags with stress. She groans softly, rubbing her forehead briefly before walking back to the bed. “I think we’re speaking different languages. I can’t understand a thing you just said,” she states as she sits down.

The ANBU diligently moves to stand near the door, never allowing his back to face her. He positions himself once again against the wall, keeping both her and the only two possible exits in his sight. “Watashitachiha 2tsu no kotonaru gengo de hanashite iru to shinjite.”(I believe we are talking in two different languages) he says, quietly adding, “Kore wa, tsūshin ga kon'nan ni narimasu.”(This will make communication difficult)

She groans, letting her back drop onto the bed. Her fuzzy mind is beginning to ache, right between her eyes and deep in her brain. It’s the kind of ache that will stay there for a long while, pressing against the limits of her skull until her whole head is throbbing. She hates headaches like these, because they never leave her alone. They stay there, pounding away at her tolerance, until she falls onto a bed or couch, and she’s forced to lie there in misery until she falls unconscious. 

It’s fucking annoying.

She exhales softly, trying to rid her attention of the headache and focus on what’s important. She has to get back to her city and find out what’s going on with her sister. Whatever happens to herself isn’t important. Her sister is, and always will be, her top priority. A hand reaches into her pocket, searching for her cell. She should call again, to try and see if she can maybe call in a favor-–

She can’t feel it. She can’t feel her phone. She pats both of her front pockets, then sits up and quickly searches her back pockets. It isn’t there either. She quickly smoothes down the bed and checks underneath both bed and pillow. It’s not there. As a matter of fact, none of her stuff is here. Not even her bag.

Did they take it away when she fainted? They probably did. She looks at the ANBU guy standing by the door. They probably took her things away to examine them, or something. After all, isn’t Naruto basically just one big-ass war-torn continent? It makes sense that they’d take her stuff away to make sure she doesn’t ninjutsu their ass out of their own hospital.

As cool as it is to use jutsu and listen to those badass openings, the Naruto universe is centered around violence, and she’s just randomly appeared in what can be considered the strongest of all major five ninja villages. Of course they’ll take away her things. They have no idea who she is or where she came from. She’s an unknown, and therefore a danger. To Konoha, she could be anything from a ticking chakra bomb, meant to kamikaze her way through to assassinate the Hokage, or a spy from a different village, hoping to infiltrate by coming across as innocent as possible.

She may be only thirteen, but her age doesn’t matter here. By twelve years old, ninja are already brainwashed into becoming cold-blooded killers. Didn’t Kakashi achieve chuunin at, like, six or something? Or not, she can’t really remember because she didn’t pay that close attention to everyone in Naruto. That’s so much damn work, remembering all those little details. She just needed to understand the big picture. She can hardly remember anything about herself anyways–- _don’t panic don’t panic_ –-but the main point is that at a young age, all these people already had blood on their hands. They kill, they destroy countries, they are taught how to fight enemies more powerful than themselves. The ANBU are Konoha’s silent-killing version of the Navy Seals. 

She sighs–-holy crap she’s been sighing a lot–-and runs a hand over her face. Well, here goes nothing. “Hey.”

The ANBU twitches at the sudden sound of her voice after such a long silence.

She stretches as she stands, before walking over to the ninja and standing in front of him. “Yeah, so, I need my things. If I’m going to find my way back to my sister, I’m definitely going to need my phone’s GPS or something.”

The ANBU directs his mask in her direction, but says nothing else.

“Oh great, you’re not saying anything anymore,” she frowns. “Buster, whether you like it or not, I’m going to get my stuff back. It’s mine, and I’ve been told I’m a very possessive person. Go get my stuff.”

He still does not respond. She knows that he has no idea what she is saying because they are speaking two completely different languages, but his silence still pisses her off. You’d think he’d at least try to ask what she was saying. She motions to herself. “My stuff, I need my stuff.” She waves her hands randomly in the air, before bringing them to her shoulder and pretending to drag her hands down her bag’s strap, patting out a pretend pouch at the end. “Stuff,” she drags the word out to give it emphasis. “My stuff. My bag, with all my books and homework and my iPod and my stuff? Yeah, I need that.” She’s also really craving a stick of gum, so that would definitely be a bonus.

The ANBU shifts after a moment, only to place his weight on his other foot.

She gives him a blank look, annoyance quickly dictating her thoughts. “Dude, are you serious right now? What the fuck do I have to do, speak sign language for you to get it?”

She receives no response.

Shrugging, she backs up a few steps, directing her attention to the door. “Fine then, be like that. I’ll just go and find my shit by myself. Don’t blame me for escaping when I take advantage and juke my ass outta here.” She waves a hand in an impolite dismissal. She only takes a single step forward before the ANBU is suddenly standing in front of her. He is looming over her, as stoic as he was just seconds ago, but a dangerous tension stiffens the air between them.

“Anata wa nokosu koto ga kyoka sa rete imasen.”(You are not allowed to leave)”, he claims, voice steady and firm.

She blinks–-because _how the fuck_ did this guy just poof there, she didn’t even see him move, seriously _what the fuck_ -–before recollecting herself and glaring at him. “Move, man. I don’t have time for this.” She steps to the side to go around him, and he copies her movement, blocking her way.

She clicks her tongue in annoyance, and slides the other way. “Move!” Once again, he blocks her path. 

She scowls, backing up a step. “Are you serious?” He doesn’t respond, and simply continues to stand there, hindering her from moving any farther. “A’ight. I see how it is.” She cracks her knuckles and bends her knees a little, preparing for her next move. “Don’t be mad at me when I whoop your ass.”

The ANBU seems to sense her intention and loosens his stiff stance, the tension curling around them and bringing a rush of adrenaline. For a moment, all is still, until she suddenly lurches to the right. The ANBU jumps with her, and she pushes off to the left. He copies her, throwing a hand out to increase his reach. She ducks and slides to the right, consequently getting a lot closer to the ninja’s personal body. He grunts, bringing his free arm in between them. She smirks, catching her opportunity. “Got’cha!” With a swift spin, she crouches underneath his outstretched hand and ends up past him, her back slamming against the door.

“AhahahaHA! Fuck yeah! Just JUPED yo’ ass,” she crows. “Whoo, you can’t touch this! Yeah! Mc HAMMERED that BITCH–”

The door slides open and she falls through, hitting her head hard on the floor.

She groans, rolling over and cringing, hissing and wrapping her arms around her head. “Ow ow OW! Oh, I am hurt. I am very much hurt!” Gentle hands help her up and guide her back into the room. She rubs the ache away and glances to her side, where a nurse is sternly jabbering away in that foreign language, appearing as if to scold her while anxiously checking her head. 

She lets the nurse fawn over her without much complaining. After all, the lady is only doing her job. All the while, she directs a vicious glare at the ANBU, who stoically stands next to the door. He’s probably only doing his job, too, but, you know, fuck him, man. Fuck him. The nurse leaves after a few moments, and she uses that as an opportunity to give the ANBU the middle finger. His right arm seems to twitch, but he doesn’t respond. She scowls and pulls her legs onto the bed, sitting criss-cross-applesauce.

Okay, enough fooling around. She has to face the music at some point.

Problems:  
-She is in Konoha.  
-She doesn’t remember much-– _breathe keep breathing breathe_ -–but she remembers her sister.  
-She has to get back to her sister.  
-She does not speak Japanese.  
-She doesn’t have her stuff or any method of transportation out of Konoha.  
-She doesn’t know if there even is a way back to...reality. Or whatever.

She breathes out shakily. She is so. _fucking_. **_Screwed_**. See, this is why she chews gum. Gum makes sure things like this never happen.

Okay, but seriously, how does she even go about solving this? Putting aside all the creepy things happening in her brain–- _is she sure that she hasn’t been in Konoha for all her life? Maybe she just has a really severe case of amnesia, maybe there is no sister_ -–how can she even begin to come to terms with this. Konohagakure no Sato isn’t supposed to exist. The Narutoverse isn’t supposed to exist. Manga is manga and reality is reality. There was never any problem distinguishing one from the other. There was never a time in which she thought ‘Okay, this episode is done, but wait, maybe I’m actually in a paradox-time-vortex bullshit in that episode’s universe, and I just don’t know it, and now when I look out my window I’ll see a giant fucking Menos Grande breaking through the sky.’ Nope. She never had that problem.

So why now? How did she get here? How does she find her way back? How can she stop doubting herself? Because really, the worst part of this whole not-in-reality-anymore thing is that she _isn’t sure_. She isn’t sure that this isn’t reality, and what she is thinking of isn’t real, and if that is the case then what does that say about her? About these memories? She’s so sure that Konoha isn’t real and she has to go back to a city to find a sister, but there is always a chance that she is suffering a terrible concussion that has destroyed her ability to recognize speech, and she is now suffering from false memories or something. Or maybe she’s schizophrenic. You never know nowadays.

But no. If that’s the case, then why does she feel so strongly that this place is _wrong_ and that she has to go get her _sister_ because her sister is _real_ , she’s _sure_ of it. Her sister is waiting for her–- _and there is a sister, there has to be, otherwise why is she feeling like this?_ –-possibly in danger, and here she is about to have another fucking panic attack–-

The door slides open again. She jumps in surprise, but quickly stands up from the bed. In walks a female ninja, decked out in a grey uniform. Her dark hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, with her hitai-ate proudly displayed on her forehead. An old scar stretches from her bottom lip down her throat, hidden from view by the high collar of her uniform. She holds a clipboard, and uses it to gesture to one of the chairs, pointedly looking back at the foreigner.

And that’s what she is, isn’t she? A foreigner. An unexpected guest. Someone who tripped into the wrong side of town. She doesn’t belong here, and she is perfectly okay with that, because she wants to go back home, wherever home is, and though she may only have vague feelings and blurry images on home-– _that might not be real no hush no don’t think about that_ -–that’s better than nothing, but wait, is this a genjutsu? This could be a genjutsu. But a genjutsu can’t exist in her world because chakra doesn’t exist in her world.

Right? Otherwise her sister would be slinging jutsu left and right, and a whiney six year old with lethal ninjutsu is just a big no-no.

Where did that thought come from again?

She eyes the chair that the kunoichi pointed at, before sitting down. It’s as uncomfortable as she assumed it would be. The kunoichi drags the other chair to be in front, and sits in it, placing the clipboard on her lap. She eyes the foreigner warily before asking, “Anatahadaredeari, anata wa doko kara kimashita no?”(Who are you and where are you from?)

The foreigner–-and she is so obviously a foreigner that this can’t be her home, right?–-awkwardly looks to the side. “Uh. What?”

The kunoichi furrows her brow and tries again, repeating her question. The other girl rolls her eyes and slumps in her chair. “Listen lady, I only understand English, and maybe some Spanish, but only if it’s a good day. Unless you got those under your belt, we’re probably not going to get anywhere with this.”

The kunoichi places steely eyes right on the other’s face, taking care to analyze every little detail she can about the other. She stares at the other, before proceeding to enunciate the following words, taking her time and accenting certain syllables.

“Kore wa kakusareta-mura anata ga no tame ni hataraite imasu ka?”(Which Hidden Village are you working for?)

The foreigner groans, slapping a hand to her forehead. “What part of ‘I don’t speak Japanese’ don’t you get?” She sighs exaggeratedly, straightens up, and looks her interrogator straight in the eye. “I. DON’T. UNDERSTAND. YOU.” Oh man, she could really use some gum right now. Gum makes everything better, especially shitty interrogations like this.

The kunoichi frowns even harder, but something seems to click in her head. With a soft sigh, seemingly resigning herself to the amount of paperwork she’ll have to do, she points to herself and states, “Watashi no namae wa Kaname Megumi desu.”

The other yawns rudely and places her chin in her palm, elbow leaning on the armrest of the chair. “Did you know, that only purple penguins can fly, but they’re so rare they only grow on Mars?”

The kunoichi clicks her tongue in annoyance and tries again, hand still on her own chest. “Megumi desu.”

At this, the other begins to understand a bit. She lets her hand drop away from her chin, and fidgets uncomfortably in her seat, focusing her gaze on the interrogator. “Are you… telling me your name?” She bites the inside of her cheek, before repeating, “Megumi desu.”

The kunoichi shakes her head and says, “Iie. Megumi. Megumi.”

She thinks she gets it now, and points to the interrogator. “Megumi.” The interrogator nods in confirmation, before pointing at the other in turn. The other frowns again. “Me? No, I’m not Megumi.”

The kunoichi shakes her head again and places her hand on her own chest once more. “Megumi.” She then uses the same hand to point to the other, and lifts an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Oh.” The other’s eyes widen, before their gaze averts to the floor. “Oh. Um.” She blinks and sighs. “Okay. Uh…” The interrogator wants her name. The problem is–- _this a problem, this is a very big problem_ -–she can’t remember. She can’t remember a lot of things. She knows that Konoha is–- _supposedly_ -–foreign to her and shouldn’t exist. She knows that she has a sister–- _that she can’t remember_. She knows that she was doing something relatively mundane before she suddenly found herself in Konoha–- _and apparently without any sense of self-identity, because her memory is failing her when she needs it most_! She knows she has to get back to her sister.

_She still can’t remember her sister. Or her home. Or her own **name**!_

That, and a bunch of sketchy information about parents she doesn't believe in and fairy tales she isn’t sure are just fairy tales and something about a manga titled Naruto, is all that she can recall. Also, gum, because surely the production of gum can only be possible in one world, right? And she can’t remember gum being anywhere in the Naruto series.

She anxiously rubs the side of her right arm, eyes focused on some random point in the room as she thought. “I...I don’t know. I don’t know my name,” she murmurs. “I can’t remember my own name.” 

_She doesn’t remember her own name!_

The admission causes her to shiver. Goosebumps erupt across her arms. She trembles, and hugs herself. “I don’t know my own name!” Her breathing speeds up, she’s starting to hyperventilate, and she can’t help it, can’t stop it, because she _doesn’t remember_! She doesn’t remember who she is! Why can’t she remember! Remember what? Her name! Remember her name! What name? There is no name because there is no she there is no they there is no there is it is simply being but not being because what is the purpose of everything if it will all end as nothing–-

The room is so cold now, _it’s so cold_ , the smell of antiseptic burns her nose right off her face and the gentle breeze made from everyone’s breathing is washing over her drowning her in stale air and carbon dioxide because she can’t breathe! She can’t breathe because she can’t remember! The seat is uncomfortable, the cushion is itching through her jeans, there are sharp fingernails–- _ **CLAWS**_ -–on her shoulder now, but she still can’t remember her _own fucking **name**_ –-

“Kokyū shimasu!”(Breathe!)

The command is sharp, and has an undercurrent of dire consequences if not obeyed. She immediately stops _thinking breathing **being**_ , flinching harshly at the sudden shout. Her eyes catch ahold of the kunoichi’s, who is leaning down to make eye-contact, whose hands are clutching her shoulders. The ninja transfers a palm to her chest. It’s coated in green chakra. 

It’s like someone breathed minty-fresh right into her lungs. They expand without her consent, and contract just the same. Her breathing regulates instantly. The peppermint sensation flows out of her lungs and into her bloodstream. It’s cool and refreshing, and zooms to every part of her body before she can even finishing sighing in relief. It’s intense, this feeling, and makes her head feel so fuzzy that she actually smiles. Her eyelids droop, because all she can think of right now is how _good_ it is to be covered in mint awesomness. Peppermint was always her favorite flavor in everything, and yet she’d trade every single mint-flavored food item that she owns right now if she can just find a way to make this fresh feeling stay forever.

And just like that it’s gone. 

The ninja looms above her, wearing a puzzled expression.The expression scares her. It’s too curious, too attentive. It means that she’s broken some unspoken rule, and brought suspicious attention unto herself. Suspicious attention is never a good thing to have, especially not in a village that makes child-soldiers look cool. Just the thought of what these might do to her, just to satisfy their curiosity, makes all her giddiness evaporate like a rain puddle on a blistering hot summer day.

Good feelings gone. Way, _way_ gone.

She gulps, and glances to the ANBU still stationed there for help. The ANBU doesn’t even twitch. A rustling of pages brings her attention back to the interrogator, who simply hands her a paper before sitting down in the chair once more. Cautiously, she scans the paper, and realizes it’s a map of… the Naruto world. Or whatever their Earth is called. Yeah, there’s Konoha, right there. Suna’s off to the left of the page, Iwa’s just above it. To the right of Iwa is Kumo, she’s sure about that because whenever she thinks of Kumo she thinks of clouds. Their sign-thingy always reminded her of clouds. And below Kumo is Kiri.

Wow, Kiri is just a bunch of islands. Huh. Who knew! The more you know.ミ★

Her gaze drifts back to Konoha, but she manages to catch sight of a spiral circle. She narrows her eyes a little to make sure. Yeah, there’s no doubt about it, that’s definitely Uzushio. She wonders when exactly it was destroyed, and why, and if so, why hasn’t anyone tried to reclaim it. From what she remembers, after Uzushiogakure is destroyed, no one bothers to ever go there again. It’s abandoned, and consequently, forgotten. It’s a sad way to go, especially considering how famous it must’ve been for everyone to recognize any Uzumaki that crosses their path.

The interrogator interrupts her train of thought by placing a finger on Konoha. “Konoha, Megumi.”

She smiles wryly, wondering what the heck is going on, and more importantly, what they were going to do to her because of it. “Yes Megumi, that is Konoha.”

The interrogator repeats, “Konoha, Megumi,” and points that same finger in her-- _what is her name why can’t she remember her name_ \--direction. The ninja waves a hand over the paper, and their face breaks away from the stiff mold of inexpression to shift into something mildly questioning.

“Um,” she starts. “Uh, you’re asking if, um, Konoha…? Oh! You wanna know where I’m from? And you want me to use the map to point it out? Er, right, now see here, my home isn’t exactly, uh, charted on this map, hun.”

A blank look and a repetition of previous actions was her only response. She exhales in annoyance, muttering, “Right. You no speaky de English. Gotcha. Gotta remember that.” She clears her throat and motions to the map, shaking her head. “No. Not here. No.”

The kunoichi narrows her eyes, and tries again, the corners of her lips twisting slightly in exasperation. For some reason, the other girl feels ridiculously happy about once again cracking that mask of indifference. Aren’t ninja famous for keeping their emotions in check? Well guess what, she has emotion-making-super-powers, hah! Regardless, the girl shakes her head at the map again, and then motions for something to write with. The ninja promptly hands over a pen, turns the paper on the clipboard over, and passes it to the other.

She smiles politely, and does her best to sketch out an outline of her world’s map, wondering if she’ll ever be able to chew on a piece of peppermint gum again.

And isn’t that something? That she actually has to sketch _her world_. Because clearly this isn’t a world she is familiar with. Actually, she is familiar with it. She just, you know, never thought it would actually be _real_.

She’s still debating whether or not this is a thing or someone slipped her roofies on her way to school or something.

Once she finishes sketching out a really crappy representation of the Earth she knows--,i>no stop don’t panic hush hush **hush** \--she circles the USA, and then scribbles in the area that she assumes would be New York State, if it was an actual map. She gives it to the interrogator and slides back in her chair, trying to watch the ninja’s reaction and keep an eye on the ANBU at the same time. It’s not really working.

She catches the kunoichi’s eyes widening, their mouth dropping slightly, and she feels her own face turn to shock. Wow. Isn’t it really REALLY rare for ninja to show emotion? She’s gotten this person to drop it, like, twice or something. She’s a fucking feelings-genius, isn’t she! The moment passes within a second, but her pride is still there, because haha ninja’s are human here’s the proof assholes!

“So, can I have my stuff back now? I could really use some gum right now. I haven’t had a piece in, like, the last three hours or so? So yeah, I kinda really, really want some. And while I’m at it, I could--”

The air goes cold. Her breath freezes in her throat, hot air and bubbling molecules slowing and draining of heat and freezing and turning to ice, a block of ice that settles itself almost sweetly on her vocal chords, presses _down down **down**_ , burning cold dripping through to her belly. Her body stiffens painfully, her eyes pop out, and she stares in fear at the killer sitting before her.

Their eyes are colder than the arctic tundra. Their fingers are poised for murder. Their expression is inscrutable. Their voice is monotone. “Shusshin wa dochiradesu ka?”(Where are you from?) They expect an answer.

She shivers and hugs herself, bowing under the cold, so fucking cold. “I-I don’t know! I can’t understand you, please! P-please d-don’t, I-I’m sorry okay, just, please don’t kill me,” she whimpers, her hands rubbing her arms in hopes of getting some warmth back into her body. The air is cold, but that doesn’t worry her. What worries her is how her heart feels like it’s freezing, how the killer right in front of her is wrapping icy hands around her poor fragile heart, bring frostbite with every squeeze. They are crushing her heart, clutching it under glacial temperatures. She knows that with just a little bit more, if they squeeze even _just that bit more_ , then her heart will go _**POP**_! And she’ll be dead.

She doesn’t want to be dead. Being dead is… being dead.

The killer-- _murderer_ \--stands abruptly, but their voice stays the same. No, no it doesn’t. It becomes bitter. It becomes frigid, ice growing along it’s edges sharper than any knife. It’s chilly enough to cut right through the arctic tension cloaking the room. Their voice brings to her the image of black ice freezing over the years she has left, chipping away at it little by little. “Anata wa hitotsu no hōhō matawa betsu no, karadearu baai, anata wa watashitachi o oshiete kuremasu.” (You will tell us where you are from, one way or another.)

“I DON’T KNOW,” she cries, her hands coming up to cover her ears from that terrible, haunting voice. She pitches forward and onto the floor, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. “I can’t tell you, I don’t know! I don’t understand,” she wheezes. It’s so hard to breathe through layers and _layers_ and _**layers**_ of rock-hard ice. “Please don’t kill me,” she whines. “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t kill me don’tkillmedon’tkillmedon’t--”

The assassin leaves the room, and all of a sudden she can breathe again. 

She takes large, heaving gulps of air, treasuring it like she never has before. She rolls over until she can prop herself up on her elbows, wheezing against the tiled hospital floor, her palms clammy with sweat. She never, _ever_ wants to go through that experience again, _never ever never_. It was terrifying. Her arms shake at the thought, and she collapses onto the floor, still gasping for breath with black dots dancing around her peripherals.

The ANBU mask swiftly covers the entirety of her vision.

And in spite of all of this, the last thought that leaves her consciousness is that in just a few short hours she’ll be experiencing some serious gum withdrawal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> present tense doesn’t like me. that’s why im writing my fic in it! practice makes perfect, right?...right?
> 
> * ‘jupe’ is street slang for blocking something. You know how you cross someone in B-ball? You just juped them. Yes, my inner ghetto is personified in this OC, bite me.  
> *This is actually 113% true, guys. You can look it up. It fucking made headlines. ‘Flying Purple Penguins: Segregated to Mars?’ It was like, all over the news. Apparently, Operation Watchtower isn’t the only conspiracy that President Nixon was accused of, if you catch my drift.
> 
> im so sick rih now im cryn boogers fukin ewwww


	3. (Let Me Take A)Crack At Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So while She is unconcious, we get to take a closer look at Konoha's T&I inner-workings. Watch what happens as Ibiki finally finds relief after struggling through the consequences of Anko's shenanigans!

Ibiki is reviewing Anko’s latest nosedive into insanity, and trying to write up some excuses for it, when Kaname Megumi appears outside his office, politely waiting for instruction. Ibiki sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Kaname wouldn’t approach him unless she desperately needed his help. The woman is self-sufficient, can even infiltrate Iwa without them noticing--and has done so at least three times before--and completes missions like nobody’s business. She is a valued member in T&I, and absolutely refuses to bring anything to the higher-ups unless there is no other option, something he finds relieving since most everyone else assumes they can’t even breathe without his permission. 

“Come on in, Kaname-san.” Hopefully, it isn’t anything too serious, so maybe he can just clear it up and go back to filling out ‘apology’ forms in preparation for whatever trouble Anko will cause once she’s back from her mission. If he could, he’d just print out copies of the damn things, but since this is T&I and they’re all paranoid bastards, it had to have his chakra signature on it, and you can’t exactly copy chakra signatures.

Kaname enters with all the grace of a proper, experienced infiltration kunoichi--that is to say, a straight and proud stance with just the right sway of her hips to get select parties interested. She bows appropriately before her superior. “Apologies, Morino-san. I did not want to disturb you, but… something important came up.”

They both know that already, but Kaname-san loves to lead people on. It’s her _thing_. Ibiki allows it only out of respect of her work. Three missions in and out of Iwa, two from Kumo, and that last one from Kiri--the success of her missions speak wonders for her skills. Ibiki can tolerate a few bothersome games from a ninja as dedicated as her. Anko is a perfect example of this philosophy.

“That’s alright, Kaname-san. I know you wouldn’t have approached me if it wasn’t serious.”

Kaname offers a slight tilt of her head, and proceeds. “Hagane-san, who was on gate duty at the time, along with Team Moto, who were patrolling, collected an unknown who attempted to enter Konoha at 0900. The subject appeared to be disoriented and delirious, and fainted before contact was made. An analysis showed that they collapsed due to a panic attack. Subject is currently being held at the hospital.”

At least the analysis rules out ‘stupid civilian poisons themselves’ as a possible conclusion. Ibiki wonders why Kaname is bothering to bring this to him. He holds out a hand for the file and casually flips through it as Kaname continues with her report.

“I was assigned to interrogate the subject when they regained consciousness. The ANBU guard stationed there reported minimal aggressive behaviour, only surfacing with the subject’s first, and final, attempt to escape. Physical examinations prove that the subject has never had shinobi training. I did not sense any chakra when I first confronted the subject.”

Ibiki lays back in his chair, looking over the files with a little more interest. “ANBU, you said?” He comes across a series of pictures, showing a messenger bag and a few curious items that were held inside, presumably the subject’s. They are… strange. If he had to choose, he’d assume they operated electrically, but he couldn’t make any other deductions about the items. He’s never seen anything quite like it before. It might be why they positioned ANBU to guard a possible non-hostile.

“Yes, sir. The subject carried a bag containing the objects shown. Our team was not able to deduce what their purposes are for. Only one, Nara Hisako-san, specializing in our branch division within R&D, was able to receive a reaction. *The item, for lack of a better word, glowed after a button on the bottom was held for more than three seconds. It went through a series of images and sounds before it settled on a single picture with various miniature icons. I did not allow anyone to touch the screen. After approximately 2 minutes, the screen darkened. Thirty seconds later and the item appeared to completely shut off. We pressed the button again, and received a different image than before.”

Ibiki scans methodically over a series of photos showing exactly what Kaname has just reported. He analyzes them the best he can, but eventually isn’t able to come up with any other deduction than them being completely foreign. He eyes the last one. It shows the subject, a female between the ages of 12 and 14, in between an older male and a younger female. Their postures imply that they are all either close friends or family. The similarities in facial structure give the impression that they are related, but the differences in skin tone and body structure say otherwise. If Ibiki had to bet, he’d place his money on the three having only one common parent. 

He gives Kaname a passing glance, and returns to leafing through the file. “Interesting. We might have to bring a few specialists from several other departments to figure this out.” He pauses on the page containing the subject’s main profile. Crucial information is missing. In fact, information pertaining to everything other than a generic medical exam is missing. He once again glances at Kaname. “So you haven’t interrogated the subject yet?”

Kaname’s right middle finger twitches once.

If it wouldn’t be considered unprofessional, Ibiki would have thrown his head back and _cackled_ , right then and there. It’s been years since T&I has had a decent challenge. So far, the lower ranks have been getting all the fun; the usual suspects brought in for interrogation cracked easily enough that shinobi higher than Kaname’s skillset were not required. Until today, apparently. And thank Kami, the only thing Ibiki has been doing for fun these days is teasing Anko. It always ends in disastrous results.

Kaname proceeds with her report. “I have interrogated the suspect, and came across… certain complications.” Ibik allows her a moment to compose herself. In T&I, how efficiently you interrogate someone was something of a code of honor. To admit to being unable to succeed in an interrogation is akin to pulling your own teeth out. “I… I cannot understand her. At all.”

Ibiki’s gaze fastens onto Kaname’s. Her slip of the tongue hinted at potentially disastrous consequences. She referred to a suspect as something other than an unknown to the village, specifically with female gender, explicitly her, which meant that Kaname was beginning to become too invested in this case. It was paramount to survival for one to stay as disconnected as possible in T&I. It kept one sane. “What do you mean by that?”

“I literally cannot understand what she is saying. I… I suspect that she is--is speaking another language.”

Hm, stuttering. That’s new. And not a good sign. Ibiki professionally places his hands on top of his desk. Kaname shifts her weight onto her left leg. She is showing signs of anxiety. Her stutter is evidence of a lack of control in her emotions. She’s currently conflicted and seeking help, which is also a blow to her pride. Currently, Kaname is compromised in regards to this investigation. Ibiki will have to remove her, but not before getting every last ounce of information from her. Her body language is telling enough, but verbal confirmations never hurt.

“What do you have to support this conclusion?”

Kaname’s eyes readjust to stare somewhere between his eyebrows. Wow, she’s even avoiding eye contact. Now that’s something. Yeah, she’s definitely getting a day off. This assignment came at a bad time. She’s just been pulled out of a sleeper mission in Kiri. It’s possible that she has returned to work too soon. “I could not understand her. She spoke with strange vocalizations, and I could not recognize any syllables in her speech. Since I have experience with scrambled sleepers, I can tell you with certainty that she is not one.”

Ibiki studies her. That must be it, the trigger for her unease. Her recent mission to Kiri was a long one, an entire six months if his memory serves him right. Which meant that her and any of her teammates would’ve been set as sleepers. Being a sleeper agent is tough. You’re set into a village under an entirely different identity, and you can’t even remember your past self because it’s all sealed away under mountains of false memories. 

When done right, sleeper agents are capable of deceiving even their own village, and can get their hands on compromising information from even the Daimyo’s own court. They assimilate themselves perfectly into their new persona, seeing as it’s the only one they can remember. They are the perfect spies. To Ibiki, they are true shinobi. They subject themselves to a total extraction of their being, reemerge as a stranger, and endanger their lives and their sanity by willingly removing themselves completely and stepping into the enemy's arms. They bide their time by living a lie, and constantly brainwash themselves so that only the trigger will be able to bring them back, if they are lucky enough to still retain a sense of self. All for information. All for the sake of the village. Every time they complete a mission successfully, no matter who they are, Ibiki makes it a point to buy them a drink. He, and all of Konoha, owes it to them.

But when a sleeper goes wrong, well, it usually ends up with a brain dead empty husk of a body, only preceded by warped ramblings of a mind that’s snapped. 

On Kaname’s last mission, her squad leader ended up a failure. Usually, they don’t allow someone to sleep for any more than three times, but because this mission was so time-sensitive, they’d sent Jihara-san in for a fourth run. The team hadn’t even crossed Kiri’s borders before Jihara-san had reportedly collapsed into a babbling mess of nonsense. The team had been forced to dispose of him, seeing as he was compromised. On Kaname’s first mission as a sleeper, the same had happened, but with a teammate instead of a captain. Such a shame that these things always seem to happen to her.

“I showed her--the subject a map, and they did not seem to recognize the Nations, though their eyes lingered on where Uzushiogakure used to be. I asked them to point out their place of origin. Instead, they drew me this.” Kaname places a page on his desk. Ibiki picks it up, and immediately conceals all expression of shock. 

This is a map. This is a _fucking **map**_. That is nothing like any map he has ever seen before.

“I used intimidation tactics to determine whether they truly believed this was their place of origin. Their reaction not only confirmed that, but also solidified the conclusion that they’ve had little to no contact with shinobi. This map, along with their belongings and their strange manner of communication, lead me to this decision.”

Ibiki directs his eyes back to Kaname, who settles herself into a rigid at-attention. “I am not capable of completing this mission. I do not have the resources to extract information from the subject. I am also emotionally compromised. I am requesting a transfer, Taicho. Please consider it.”

This is why Ibiki likes Kaname. She places the Village before herself, before any silly competition of pride. She understands her limits, how far she can push herself and when she is literally incapable of continuing on. He allows his stance to relax and gives her a nod of approval as he stands up and shuffles the documents into one pile. 

“Good work, Kaname-san. I will look into this to the best of my ability. You will be transferred to Chi-san’s squad. They are currently off-duty for the next three days. I suggest you join them.”

Kaname’s jaw tenses, but she bows appropriately and responds with an affirmative. Because Ibiki considers himself a gentleman, he smirks slightly and adds, “I’ll keep you posted.”

It seems to satisfy her, judging by the loosening of her clenched fists.

With a wave, Ibiki dismisses her. In a few moments, all of the paperwork dedicated to Anko is settled to the side. He picks up the pile to be dropped off while on the way to his new case. He takes one last glance at the image of the two young people with the subject.

“Let’s see what happens when I take a crack at them.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this could be an OMAKE, but this is also (kinda) important to the story? So? Main storyline it is? Megumi-chan is an OC by the way, and so is Team Moto. I'll be tossing in OC's for filler purposes as well as actual anime characters with little-to-no-storyline, too. Some of them will be important. Some of them won't. That's up to me to know, and you to find out.
> 
> *ninja dunno whaddado in da face of da MAGESTIK, MAJIKAL, SMAHTFONE!
> 
> (i’m getting it hard on for ibiki tho, man, he’s super fun to write in my opinion.)


	4. PLEASEDON'TKILLME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> White paint + subtle genjutsu + unsuspecting prisoner = 13-year-old panick-ridden interdimensional traveler begging for her life before the unmerciful God of Interrogation. AKA Ibiki has a Good Day.

It is blindingly bright when she next opens her eyes. Fuck, it’s like the sun settled right above her pupils and smiled down at her with that kiddy-style bitch face, all on point and shit, and waved its rays around like she waves the finger at drunk drivers. Like, fuck you sun. Fuck you. You don’t deal with human shit so get your sunshiney ass out of fucking dodge. But no, of course you won’t, no you gotta go and brighten up this white-ass room so that my eyes can boil in their sockets, that’s just so fucking not-cool dude. Fuck you.

Then she realizes that she has just had a somewhat insane inner dialogue with herself about the sun being sentient enough to consciously harass others with sunlight, and tries to fully regain consciousness in order to bring back sweet, sweet sanity. 

She blinks away the spots from her eyes and looks around. The room really is blindingly bright. It’s painted so that she can’t tell where the ceiling becomes walls becomes floors, or where the floors becomes walls becomes ceiling. The light is positioned perfectly and bright enough to eliminate any shadows made by the corners. The only reason why she knows there is a table is because there is a shadow underneath it, and she knows there is a chair because she is sitting in it, with her hands chained to the armrests.

It is terribly disorienting and makes her nauseous enough to vurp.

She groans and smacks her lip. Her gum cravings are making her jiggle her leg, and she runs her tongue over her teeth three times before even thinking about trying to find a door. Which, of course, isn’t visible anyways. She has no idea how she got here, or when, but she wants out.

“Hello?”

Her voice sounds like a washing machine had sex with a squeaky desk chair. They must not have been proud of their lovechild and decided to implant it into her throat instead. She clears her throat and tries to speak louder.

“Uh, hello? Can anyone hear me?”

Nothing really happens, and she sighs. Well, this must be the Narutoverse form of interrogation or something. Last she remembers, she was being questioned. She doesn't know what exactly she did to deserve the whole white-room solitary confinement thing, but she hopes they reconsider soon. Which brings her to an important question, besides the obvious ones of how did she get here, and how does she get back, and what happened to her sister, and when she will be able to go to the bathroom, and there are so many more. But what really matters is what she will tell her interrogator. She can’t exactly say ‘Hi! I’m from a world where your entire life is insignificant compared to a twelve year old’s and is depicted throughout a manga series which means you’re all fictional, and therefore I don’t know nor care about you, but I could recite almost every single catchphrase of your village’s resident jinchuuriki! Is there a cab that can take me back home, or do I have to take the chakra expressway?’

Especially since they seem to be speaking different languages. Can this day get any better?

She rolls her neck, and because suddenly the restraints at her wrists are getting itchy, she rolls them too. “Hello~? Prisoner here, waiting for interrogation?”

Nothing.

“Listen guys, I got a really pressing appointment for one o’clock, so I gotta get going. You know, official government stuff. It’s pretty classified, you wouldn’t understand it.”

Still nothing.

The silence is getting ominous. It’s irritating. She clicks her tongue, and even though her legs are restrained, does her best to stomp her foot and shouts, “HEY FUCKTARDS, GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”

Silence reigns again. It’s getting kind of creepy. She is literally beginning to _hear_ the silence. That’s something that has only happened to her once before, and that was after her brother died--

Her brother.

Her brother died.

_Oh my god she forgot that her brother died_.

She fights her way through her next breath. The air in her throat solidifies and chokes her badly enough to make her wheeze. How could she have forgotten this, what the hell is wrong with her, why did she forget Timothy? She gulps and scans her memory. She’s been having problems with her memory ever since she arrived to this world. Her confusion over what’s real and what isn’t, whether or not she was originally from this world, the matter of her sister’s existence which is bullshit because Sis just _has_ to be real, and now Tim, it’s all just---she can’t--

“HELP! HELP, PLEASE! I’ll, I’ll tell you anything, I’ll tell you anything you want to hear, just--Let me out! LET ME OUT!”

She can’t stay here. She can’t stay in this place. She wants to go _home_. 

She wants to get away from the ninjas, the murder, the wars over chakra. She wants to get a piece of gum. She wants to go visit Tim’s grave and beg for forgiveness because _how could she forget him, how could she_. She wants to pick up Sis from school, and give her a noogie. She wants to shake Ma back into common sense, because mothers are supposed to care for their children, not leave them to fend for themselves. She wants to kiss both of her sister’s cheeks. She wants to _remember_ her sister’s name. She wants to _remember_ New York and all of her school friends that are blurry, _blurry blurry blurry_ , she doesn’t want anymore blurries. Most of all, _she wants to remember her name_.

_She **needs** to remember her name_.

She screams. “LET ME OUT OPEN THE DOOR UNCHAIN ME GET ME OUT I WANT HOME TAKE ME HOME PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING DON’T DO THIS DON’T MAKE ME FORGET PLEASE LET ME GO HOME PLEASE!”

She pants for breath.

The silence squeezes her arms tighter to her body, pushes her harder against the chair, forces her to hunch her shoulders against its weight. It’s stifling, oppressive, and so thick it’s near impossible to breath around it. It’s suffocating. The rooms sucks all feeling out of her. It’s white walls and white floors and white ceiling become one spinning, mindless mess of inconsequential nothings to her. Her eyes rove mindlessly around the blankness.

“Get me out get me out _please get me **out**_!”

How long has she been in here again? Days? Weeks? Months? Years?

How does time pass again?

Right, 60 seconds in a minute 60 minutes in an hour 12 hours in a day 24 hours also in a day? 24 hours by 7 for 7 days in a week but it’s math and she hates math. 7 days in a week and 4 weeks in a month. 12 months in a year. 365 or 366 days in a year. But only in leap years, because that’s when February gets an extra day of lovin’, the 29th. She used to know someone who was born on the 29th. Maybe. She can’t remember anymore.

“TAKE. ME. OUT. OF. HERE.”

The silence whooshes back now. She’s unfortunately getting used to it. It’s stuffy, obnoxious, muffles everything, sneaks in through her ears and blankets her brain and smothers any intelligible thought out of her mind and silences her very being because it is silence. It takes all and leaves nothing. Even if nothing were something it would still amount to nothing.

“I’ll sing obnoxious songs. I can’t let this get to me. It’s just silence. I just… I can sing. I can sing songs. I can sing a lot of songs. Like… Like… Like Bob Marley!”

She waits for the lyrics to come to her. They don’t. She whispers desperately, “Please, I just want to go home…”

The door opens, and it is like a cool wind on a hot summer day. It’s like hot chocolate after snow. It’s like the sun after a hurricane. It’s like a foot massage from Tim after a hard day at the restaurant. It’s like seeing Sis smile even after Ma had another fit. It’s like the cat, Yuki-onna was her name, curling up on her lap for a nap. It’s like the family sitting down for a movie, everyone together for once after so long.

It’s relief.

She half-laughs, half-sobs, and wails, “Oh thank God! Thank you! Thank you so much, please, please get me out, thank you thank you my god _yes_ , yes please I want to go home, thank you--”

The man slaps her hard across her cheek, and it stuns her into silence.

When she next looks at him, he is standing in front of her, his back to the table. His narrow eyes turn to slits, glaring daggers at her. His look makes her feel pitiful, dirty, lesser than a cockroach. The scars slashed across his face only had to his severity. She licks her lips nervously, before suddenly realizing who he is.

It’s that Ibiki Morino guy. The guy from the first Chunnin Exam, with the dumb rules for the dumb information test disguised as a dumb writing test. Fucking shit.

“に話さない限りあなたは話すことはありません.” (You will not speak unless spoken to.) he growls, the scar across his mouth twisting with the disgusted curl of his lip. Despite the lighting in the room, shadows fall heavily across his face as he looms above her, impossibly powerful. 

She gulps and frantically avoids eye contact, trying to keep her rolling eyes solely on her sneakers. “I can’t understand, I can’t understand anything you’re saying, please just--”

Another slap, harsher this time, and the edges of her eyes sting at the pain. She sucks in air between her teeth and wishes she could go Hulk all over his scrawny ass right the fuck now, but she’s tied to a goddamn chair in some goddamn solitary confinement cell for fuck’s sake. Also, he’s a superhuman with magic at his fingertips and the ability to crush her spine with his pinky finger. One glance between her eyelashes at his ferocious expression is enough to cow her meager rebellion.

“沈黙,”(Silence!) he shouts. With a vicious sneer, he grabs her by the cheeks and yanks her face up to meet his eyes. He stares at her for a tense moment, scrutinizing every little bit of her, and there’s something leaking into the air from him, some really bad feeling, something that’s building up against her senses that she just knows is wrong. He reaches into his pocket and whispers, “たぶんあなたはこのことを認識します...”(Maybe you’ll recognize this…).

He pulls out a picture. Her picture. The picture she took when her brother took her sister and herself to Coney Island.

Her breath catches in her throat, and all she can do is stare. Now that she can see them, can look at them and memorize their faces all over again, it seems almost stupid to think that she ever forgot them. There’s Tim, with his fucking gorgeous Indian-like hair held up in a high ponytail. His tall body is mostly cut out of the frame, and the edge of his thumb appears on screen. He’s holding the phone for their selfie, being a giraffe and all. He’s all smiles and dimples, chocolate eyes almost twinkling, with an arm wrapped around both her and Sis. 

Sis. Goodness, _her sister_. MJ. MJ looks to be about 8 there. What a cutie pie she is, with her frizzy hair kept out of her eyes by a headband. MJ beamis at the camera, her eyes nearly closed from her smile. Her tiny arms wrap entirely around her big sister’s waist, and MJ stands on her toes to lay her head against her sister’s chest yet still be in the picture. 

Her heart pangs in her chest. It’s so good, _so fucking good_ , to be able to see their faces again. It feels like it’s been years since she’s last seen them. Logically, she knows that it can’t be that long. Can it? It can’t be. Wasn’t she just griping to herself about not being able to remember Tim--

_Holy fuck she remembers them!_

She-she remembers! She remembers Ma with frizzy hair and copper skin, bags under her eyes deeper than the Grand Canyon and a regretful smile that made resentment and guilt twist into a strange form of love. She remembers Ma’s obnoxious love of cats and Yuki-onna squirming her way into the family. She remembers Ma’s obsession with double-barrel names. Timothy Paul for Big Bro a.k.a. Tiny Tim, and Mary Jane for Lil Sis a.k.a. MJ. She remembers handing out nicknames for everyone she loves. MJ got lucky, being named after Spider Man's girlfriend is awesome. She can’t really remember her own name, which is disappointing-- _terrifying_ \--but so long as she has memories of her family then everything’s okay again! Because now, now she knows what’s real, and that she has to get back to her family, so she has to get out of here. Her purpose is to _leave this shithole_ and _get back to her family, damn it!_

“だから、あなたはそれらを覚えています...”(So, you do remember them...), mutters Ibiki, and all at once she’s crashing back down to reality. A reality in which she’s locked inside a white room with a torture specialist from an anime show that’s not supposed to exist in real life.

She licks her lips and nods at the picture. “That’s my family. It’s proof I’m not from around here. I mean, I’m at least 87.23% sure that I’m not from around here. Around here as in your world, around here. So. Um. Let me go please?”

Ibiki’s eyes gain a deadly glimmer. The pressure in the air goes from ‘cool summer day’ to ‘midday in Sahara desert.’ Her mouth dries up faster than a puddle near the equator, and her extremities feel like they’re about to sink into fresh lava. Her breath stutters to a halt, because the air is so _heavy_ that she can’t even _breathe_. It’s as if she was almost trying to inhale slime set on fire. It’s too much, too much, too much! She has to breathe, she _has_ to, but she can’t because then he’ll cut off her fingers and make her _breathe her own blood_.

Ibiki rips the picture in half. The message is clear.

She jolts in her chair and yelps, hands lurching against restraints for the photo. “NO! No don’t you, d-don’t you _fucking dare_ , you SON OF A BITCH! DON’T--Don’t, please don’t, DON’T HURT THEM! DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH THEM! I’LL KILL YOU, YOU HEAR ME! I’LL FUCKING KILL Y--”

He stands.

A sense of doom, of terror, of fire and ice, of acid-coated knives in your gut and swords in your throat and blood, blood everywhere, leaking from your eyeballs, and _death_ washes over her so quickly that she chokes on air. She cries out in pain, phantom terrors gripping hold of her body, causing her to abruptly slump forward and smack her head against the edge of the nearly invisible table. She gasps loudly, barely able to move.

 

The DOOM DEATH DESTRUCTION increases, crawls under her skin, burrows into her bones, sets her on _fire_ , and she can _feel_ it, _she can feel it_ , clawing up her arms and there it is--there it is!--like spiders and cockroaches and _disease_ , it’s inside her brain isn’t it, it’s evil and slimy and cancer and it’s INSIDE HER, please no PLEASE, DON’T KILL ME!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH THAT GOT INTENSE
> 
> *vomit and burp, anyone?


	5. Excavating Her Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope comes in many forms, and one of them is the blurry image of Yamanak Inoichi.

When she is conscious again, there is a hand placed on her forehead. She blinks her eyes open, and in front of her is undoubtedly Inoichi Yamanaka, because he is the only motherfucking asshole in the entire anime that can rock a girly-ass ponytail like that and still look terrifying. Her head is oddly cool, and she realizes that her pink beanie was removed. Which means her meager sense of security is gone as well, and now her brown hair falls limply over her shoulders, and that feeling of overexposure that always comes with the absence of her hat is creeping up on her once again. She can’t move anything from her neck down, and a glance is all she needs to see that yes, she is in the ground. Or inside a machine, but yeah, in the ground too. 

 

It’s terrifying, to think that this man is capable of literally intruding on her mind, but it’s not as bad as whatever Ibiki did to her. That was… 

That was death. 

 

Inoichi says something, his blue eyes staring intently into hers. She obviously doesn’t understand it, and just looks at him, guessing why she is before him, and hoping that he will understand once he finishes excavating her brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a question for y'all. What exactly do you want to see in this fic? What are you expecting, and what would you like to see happen? What fillers, if any, do you want me to include when we get to canon?


	6. Into Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inoichi makes a mental note to never, EVER, delve into the mind of a foreigner again. Foreigner's have very weird minds.

Inoichi understands the human mind.

It is his specialty. He has spent years researching its secrets. In his prime within the dark and deadly branches of T&I, he could spend nearly hours at a time within a person’s mind. His clan’s abilities allows him to read minds, use them, take control over them, take them apart, put them back together again, and learn every little secret they tried to hold from him. His clan’s jutsu gifted him with the ability to understand the human mind like none other.

Which is why he is so confused when he finds that he can’t understand this one. 

Currently, the girl is unconscious, held upright by Konoha’s Mind Reading Amplification Machine. The machine is powered by him, along with a few other members of T&I. Together, they stabilize the condition of the subject, both medically and psychologically. This then enables Inoichi to enter the subject’s mind and be able to do with it as he pleases. Well, almost as he pleases. There are obviously a few restrictions, but overall, it’s enough to allow him to determine exactly who this girl is. He can sift through memories, take apart and reprogram personalities, even enter mindscapes. The possibilities are endless, so long as you can handle the side effects, which vary anywhere from momentary confusion to strokes and possibly even death. The subject mainly suffers the consequences, so as long as they are disposable to Konoha, there is basically no risk involved in this technique. A beauty, isn’t it?

But case in point: if he can do so many amazing things with this jutsu, why is it that they aren’t working now?

Inoichi studies the brain before him. It is standard protocol for a temporary mindscape to form immediately when he enters the mind of a subject. Typically, it consists of a dark area, occupied only by a visual representation of the subject’s brain. From there, he can access the ‘hippocampus’, so to speak, of the subject, and review their memories in the forms of thick scrolls that he can manipulate in or out of the brain.

This is exactly what occurred when he first entered this subject’s mind, but when he pulled a memory from her mind to review, he encountered a problem. The main problem, to be specific. Usually, the memories are transferred to kanji on the scroll. It makes for a lengthy reading, but just a few catchphrases are enough to trigger a viewing of a memory. Besides, Inoichi’s recollection ability is nothing to scoff at. A single glance is all he needs. Once outside of the subject’s mind, he can then review his own memories and find out all the little secrets the subject never revealed to Ibiki.

Except these scrolls aren’t filled with kanji. They’re filled with some strange symbols that he has never seen before, and he can’t make heads or tails of them. No matter which scroll he looks at, all contain those same strange symbols. He memorizes it all, just in case Cryptology can find some use for it, but he expects that even they will be stumped by this. It doesn’t look like any code he’s ever seen before, and besides, you can’t exactly encrypt a person’s memories. Unless someone created a technique that can do so. He sighs to himself. This means that he might need to turn things up a notch. He doesn’t want to, seeing as this particular subject is a child, and this next jutsu can be damaging to the brain’s memory retention ability, but then again… They really need information on this one. Drastic times call for drastic measures.

He forms the hand seal and is about to draw the chakra when to his right someone shouts, “Hey! Whatever you’re planning, you better not do it, ya hear me!”

Inoichi visibly jumps at the sudden noise, and berates himself for the reaction immediately after. He looks down, floating in the dark expanse of the mind as he is, with his normal stoic mask in place, and faces a mental image of the subject. It is strange to see a mental image in a civilian's mind without having summoned it first, which leads him to believe the cause is one of two things; either A, the subject has had training in mind techniques, or B, they consistently make use of their ‘inner voice of conscious’, therefore leading it to form a representation of itself. All he has to do is take one look at the mental image, and he knows it’s the latter.

The image stares up at him, exaggeratedly short. It stands at just two feet tall, and its head is double the size of its body. Its pink hat stretches all the way down past its eyebrows, almost entirely covering the eyes, and the small bits of hair that stick out from below its cap are oddly limp. They are also colored green, which somewhat matches with the subject’s actual appearance. So far, the hat and the green hair are consistent with both subject and mental image, but the height is grossly misrepresented and the hat covers much more than it did in real life. Their face is excessively expressive, and their outfit is the exact same one that the subject is currently wearing. This leads Inoichi to believe that the subject is acutely self-conscious of their height; is dependent on the hat for some form of protection; probably has trouble controlling their emotions, which could potentially lead to panic attacks, the exact thing that drew Konoha’s attention to them, fancy that; has green as its favorite color, if the dyed highlights managed to make it as their base hair color in their mental image; and the outfit is their uniform, if it too made it to their mental image, so they most likely participate in a structured, monitored routine. The clothes don’t look like the preferred option one would wear to a fight, though, so it seems that being a field shinobi as their career is ruled out.

The image scowls and shakes a finger at him, yelling “You get your ass down here, you S.O.B.! What the hell do you think you’re doing, messin’ around in my head!”

Inoichi floats down to land on the invisible platform that supports the image, and tonelessly replies, “I apologize for intruding. Who are you? Where do you come from?”

The mental projection rises to his height, it’s proportions fixing themselves into a much more realistic interpretation of the subject. Inoichi notes it carefully. The image sneers, “I can’t believe it! You literally just broke into my head! You’re so, ugh! People these days!” They round on him with a fierceness he raises an eyebrow at. “Who the HELL are you? What gives you the right to do this? Do you feel _good_ , just skipping around in people’s brains? Do you get off on that shit?”

Inoichi pointedly gives no reaction. This was getting a bit too strange, even for him. Also, the image entirely ignored his questions, which was much more important. “What Village are you from? Who do you work for?” Internally, he sighs. This would all be so much easier if he could just view the memories.

The projection splutters indignantly, then waves their arms maniacally at the dark expanse around them. “Can’t you tell? I work for _FUCKING_ Santa Claus, dipshit! Who the fuck do you think I work for? Better yet, who the heck do you work for?”

Inoichi initiates eye contact, and holds it. Their evasion tactics seem to be rehearsed. Could they have been trained?

The image suddenly narrows their eyes and peers closer at him with one eye. The action is overemphasized by how their eye suddenly doubles in size. The oversized eyeball blinks once, and then retreats to a normal size. “You look familiar… Oh!” The projection abruptly smiles kindly. “I remember you now. You’re the father of that Ino chick, right?”

Inoichi’s blood freezes in his veins.

The image laughs freely. “Oh man, this is too good. Yamanaka, right? Ino-something. Inojin? Nope, that’s not it, though… Ah! Inoichi! Ha, see, told ‘ya I remembered.” It sighs happily. “It feels so good to remember things…”

It takes everything in him to not chokehold this Kami-damned mental projection and drag them on a genjutsu mind-trip down Tortureville. Whoever this son of a bitch is, they know his daughter. He has to approach this carefully. This is no longer just some routine mental screening. Inoichi continues to stare blankly at the image. “You have detailed information on Konoha-nin. How did you obtain it?”

The image giggles. Fucking _giggles_. Like this is all some sort of joke. “Silly goose, you just wanna know how I know ya, yeah?” They wiggle their eyebrows and chortle before waving him forward. “Follow me to America, Inoichi- _chan_!”

Inoichi resists the urge to throttle them again and follows. He glances back only once at the fading representation of the hippocampus.

“Man, that place was weird. I mean, come on, a brain with scrolls sticking out of it floating in darkness? That’s just so _weird_. I have no idea how the heck that came about. I’d never seen it before, either. But where we’re going now, man it’s awesome! You’ll love it there! And it’ll have all the information you’re looking for, too! It’s pretty much where I go to daydream, and because of that, it has all my memories and imaginations, because daydreams come from memories and imagination, pretty much. But really, I know the only reason why I would think up a Yamanaka in my head was if I wanted to start some Naruto daydream up, so I’ll just bring you back to your place, and let the water flow its course!”

Inoichi notices the name of Konoha’s jinchuuriki. This is not good. Not good at all.

A library of sorts fades into existence around them. A wooden round table stands in the middle, polished to a shine, with papers littering the surface. It’s almost as tall as Inoichi himself, and for a moment the mind reader curiously eyes the strange dark plants curling around the four legs of the table before scanning the rest of the room. Book shelves stretch farther than the eye can see, fading upwards into empty white space, and they act as borders for the area. Something glitters on a shelf, and with a squint, Inoichi realizes that a group of fairies are perched daintily on a book jutting out from the shelf. Speaking of which, books are _everywhere_. Open, closed, sorted onto a shelf, laying on the floor, arranged in piles of varying sizes; there’s not a single spot that doesn’t have a book on it. In fact, the floor _itself_ is made of books. From underneath one such book, a green worm with round, black-rimmed glasses wriggles out, narrowing its eyes at a group of stick figures. It gnashes its teeth at them, and the worm chases the stick figures away from its territory before grumpily slinking back under its book.

Inoichi has no idea what to make of this. 

The mental projection skips over to a bench by a window and pushes off all the books laying atop it. She pats the cushions and gives him a friendly smirk, saying “Well come on now, don’t be a stranger. Sit down,” before prancing off into a dark corner. 

Inoichi makes to follow her, but has to stop just as a purple pegasus glides by. Inoichi blinks stupidly at the animal, only to receive a horsey grin before it speeds off with a rainbow trailing behind it. He looks to the side, and just a few bookshelves away from him, sees a yellow sponge with pants talking to a boy in black robes with the face of a man, round glasses, and a lightning scar grotesquely stamped onto his enlarged forehead. Something lands on Inoichi’s shoulder, and he gawks as a tiny man in green chuckles up at him, “Who needs gold when you have Lucky Charms!” 

 

All at once, Inoichi catches on to just how _bad_ of an idea it is to follow a mental image of a foreign subject into their own mindspace.

The more he looks around, the busier the mindscape gets. Neon colors randomly splash into creation mid-air. He catches snatches of music he can’t recognize. Birds of the like he’s never seen before soar by, one in particular whining out loud, “Are we there yet?” A sharp sound yanks his attention to the left, where a parade of mermaids swim down the bookshelf in floating globs of water. Inoichi swallows past the rising panic in his throat, and steps forward to try and finally reach the seat, only to have his balance leave him entirely. He tilts to the left, and a giant finger props him back up. It then places itself on the floor, and joins another finger in mimicking the action of walking. He takes another step and a crab appears, circling around his left leg, shouting, “Hey, hey, hey! Watch it, will ya’!” He stifles a yelp in surprise and tries to hop away from the crab, but a mass of black slime with eyeballs abruptly appears and gurgles to his right. He whirls around, stumbles backwards, and falls onto the bench, even though he was sure he still had about 2 meters to go. 

It’s like he tripped through an invisible barrier. The world unexpectedly becomes muted. The neon colors still randomly appearing dull in intensity, and though he can still hear the strange music, he can do so only when he strains his ears. The other side blurs to the point where all the bizarre creatures from before are distorted enough that he can ignore them. Inoichi feels like he can breathe again. Why was this girl’s mindscape so busy? So _crazy_?

The projection forms next to him, holding two steaming cups, and smiles wanly at him. “Tea, or coffee?”

Inoichi responds with a question of his own, “What do you know about the Leaf?” 

The image sighs and sets the saucers down. “Alright, I think I figured it out. Do me a favor and look up?”

Inoichi is tempted not to, but does so anyways. He gasps. Instead of shelves fading into white, a giant black hole covers the entirety of the top half of the room. Stars swirl around inside it, and at its epicenter is a large brown eye. The iris flickers every which way, ensuring nothing goes unnoticed under its vigilant stare. It settles on him, scrutinizing. Inoichi gulps.

This is way, way above his paygrade.

The projection smiles at him, and it takes him only a moment to realize that they’re different now. Her face is entirely normal, her expressions no longer exaggerated. Her height is appropriate, and her brown hair now has the edges colored green, like how it is in reality. “Right then. This here is my home. Welcome. I know it’s a bit crazy, but you get used to it after a while. I have a really active imagination.”

Inoichi stares at her. “You’re not a projection.”

She gives him a confused look. “I don’t know what you mean by a projection, but that’s not important right now. I remember that I’m apparently in Konoha right now, yes? So we have a problem. To me, Konoha didn’t exist, not in real life, until just recently. I’d like to keep it that way. I want to go back home. Can you do that for me?”

Inoichi’s expression becomes fierce. “You say that, and yet clearly you know more than you should.” Such an extreme reaction is breaking interrogation protocol, but Inoichi is far past caring about that. This stranger, an unknown potential hostile, with flying pegasi and talking crabs living in their mindscape, knows his _daughter_. Inoichi doesn't give a _damn_ about protocol; _no one hurts his baby girl_. “Who the fuck are you? What Village are you from? Better you tell me now, before I hand you over to Ibiki again.” Inoichi leers at her. “He won’t be as nice next time, little girl.”

Her expression crumbles into one of pure fear. “Oh god, please no, not him again.” she whimpers For a moment, she looks like she’s about to hyperventilate, before she regains some modicum of control over herself. “Right. Well, I want to avoid that as much as possible. The thing is, I’m not from a Village, I’m not a ninja, I don’t even have chakra. I’m not from your world, Inoichi. I have no idea how to show you that. You ninja are too paranoid to accept it. I could show you my memories, but you probably won’t understand the language they’re in, since I speak English and you’re speaking Japanese, I think. I could show you what I know about the Naruto manga, but you’ll think that I’m just some spy or something. No matter what I say or do, you guys will find some way to spin it to make me look like a bad guy.”

Inoichi knows she is right, and doesn’t argue it. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

Her pinched expression deflates into that of horrified acceptance. “That’s the thing. I can’t remember. _I can’t remember my name_.”

This revelation shows something utterly vulnerable about the subject that Inoichi highly doubts is a lie.

She bites her lip and casts worried eyes around them. “Look for yourself.”

Inoichi does, and he sees. The library around them is foggy. At first he thought it might be because of the separation between the bench and the rest of the area, but on second thought, it’s much more cloudy than he originally thought it was. The crab that yelled at him is no longer moving. The dark slime thing is evaporating. The flying creatures are now all walking on the floor, instead of zooming around everywhere. The clothed sponge and the boy-man are melting into each other. The music he heard before is distorted. As he studies it all, a book falls. And another. And _another_. In seconds, it’s raining books. The wooden bookshelves are rotting, and they are fading into the black hole above at a much quicker rate. He directs his gaze to the giant eye, and after looking closely for a moment, manages to notice a strange film that makes the eye look glazed and unfocused.

Inoichi looks back at the girl in front of him, feeling a little pity. “You’re dying.” She’s so young, too.

She gasps and lunges forward. “ _WHAT?!_ ”

Inoichi startles. “You didn’t know?”

Her mouth gapes open. “NO! No, of course not! I--How--FUCK!” She grabs at her pink hat. “ _Shit. Fudge-covered shiitake mushrooms._ Fucking hell, okay. Okay. I-I can deal with this. Okay. I got this. Just, just focus. _Focus_.” She takes a determined, and yet shaky, breath. “Okay, Inoichi, I’m just going to give you everything I got. I hope you can deal with it.” She picks a book off a shelf and hands it to him. 

Inoichi looks at the book warily for a moment, but above all, he came here for information. He takes the book in hand, opens it, and immediately falls into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels so rushed like herhamgee. now i wanna say that her having a minscape isn't realisitc. yes i know that. The Yamanaka clan jutsu are never fully explained, and Kishimoto pulls one out of his magician's hat whenever he feels like it. I actually do have an explanation for the mindscape (something about Inoichi's chakra and projection needing a representation of the mind they can work with coupled with the subject's own subconcious, which is why her mindscape is bananas instead of Inoichi's generic darkness and floating brain.) so yeah, hit me up for more if you want to, y'all.


	7. Out of Oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory-ception.

Inoichi blinks at the baby. The baby gurgles and yawns. He feels himself gently lay them against his shoulder, cradling their head carefully, holding their bottom securely. A warm feeling rushes through him, a feeling he can only compare to what he felt when he first held Ino in his arms.

It’s bittersweet in the best and worst of ways.

He turns around and finds himself washing dishes. Next to him, a frowning boy with dark, straight hair scrubs vigorously at the kitchen counters. Their face is oddly blurred, but he can hear them muttering under their breath. He catches snippets, things like “...can’t believe she did this…” and “...she doesn’t care about us…” and “...I wish she’d just _die_ already, damn it…” Inoichi stays quiet, but before he can finish his chore, a baby’s cry suddenly cuts through the quiet. The boy slumps forward, and for a moment Inoichi can clearly see the stress lines on their face, the desperation, the exhaustion. It fades out again, and distantly Inoichi feels himself run off to take care of the baby.

He runs right into a crowd filled with other children, all of varying ages. He turns around and looks up at the same boy from before. This time, he can make out a smile as the boy kneels to pat Inoichi on the head. “Have fun today, okay? And please, no fighting.”

Inoichi beams. “No promises.”

The boy sighs in amused exasperation, and Inoichi turns to the toddler in the boy’s arms. The toddler is entirely blurred, and he can only guess at their age and their general colors. Other than that, all details are lost, and though Inoichi knows he just bid them goodbye, he can’t recall exactly how he did it. He turns once more, and a woman he _hates--loves--can’t decide_ cups his cheek. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Her voice is a siren’s whisper. It has that sugary quality all mother’s save for their children, and Inoichi can’t help the tears that spring to his eyes, because it’s been _so long_ since Ma has spoken like that to him. The woman sniffles, and though Inoichi can’t make out her face clearly, _it doesn’t matter that’s Ma I can’t **ever** forget Ma_. Sure, he can’t see her face, but her eyes are clearly visible. The bags under her eyes, her golden-brown irises, the crows feet at the corners, the frown lines on her forehead, and most of all, the _guilt_. “I’m so proud.”

Inoichi breathes in deeply to hold back tears, and when he breathes out it’s to clear his nose of the stench of vomit and booze. He’s picking up glass bottles, and to his right is the boy, _that’s my brother, oh no not him, oh why him, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry_ , mopping up Ma’s mess. The toddler is just a few feet away from them, blocked off by a baby gate. Inoichi goes back to cleaning up, trying not to think about how just that morning he’d started hoping again. Hoping that Ma would’ve changed.

Inoichi lifts his arm and spins around, the toddler squealing happily. Inoichi laughs with the little girl, _but that’s my sister, THAT’S MY SISTER, that’s my little sister_ , and is about to spin even faster when the boy, no that’s my brother, takes the little girl out of his arms. “Ds EWF tttew TERG”, he scolds. “dafTRFDdfhr not a good idea, WWW. How many times do I have to tell you that?” The distortion is getting worse. Some words he can’t recognize, some people are blurry to the point that Inoichi can only register them based on feelings and vague color associations. Inoichi pouts. “Spoilsport.” 

His vision whooshes for a moment and he finds himself sitting next to Brother on the couch. “Watching that stupid show again?” 

Brother harrumphs. “It’s not stupid. Naruto is a great anime.”

Inoichi chuckles. “God you’re such a _nerd_.”

Brother shoves him off the couch and Inoichi cackles as he runs over to play with Sister.

Inoichi spins around the corner only to sit back on the couch, this time with a bowl of popcorn. Sister is on his lap, shoving popcorn into her mouth so fast that for a moment he fears that she’ll choke. Brother steps in and admonishes Sister lightly, telling her to eat slower, but the brat just sticks out her tongue. Both Inoichi and Brother sigh. Sis is a real pain in their ass sometimes. But then commercials are over and their show is on. Inoichi is about to turn up the TV’s volume when Brother stops her, glancing to their mother’s bedroom. Ma just came back a few hours ago, smelling of alcohol and sex, and she hasn’t come out yet. Brother doesn’t want to risk waking her up.

Inoichi drops the remote, and they watch their episode of Naruto in silence, relying on the subtitles to understand what’s going on.

_**Inoichi panics, because that is Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto, Konoha’s jinchuuriki, and these people are watching this Uzumaki Naruto face off against Momochi Zabuza of the Seven Swordsman. Hatake Kakashi is the jonin on-scene, and Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura, both Academy students, stand with him, as well as some civilian Inoichi can’t recognize. He has no idea what to make of this, but he knows that it can’t mean anything good for him.** _

Inoichi chases after Sis in between groups of people, panic snapping at his heels to make him go even faster. He _told_ that _brat_ to _stay with me_ , but _of course_ she runs off! Inoichi can only glimpse the pink of her sandals, the yellow of her dress, and tries to track her down through the blurring throng of families and teenagers and couples and loners and he’s _this close_ to calling the police because _damn it, damn it all, where is she!_

He shoves his way through a particularly thick group of people and spots her talking to a guy around the same age as Bro. The blurs are everywhere, and they’re so dense around Sis that she’s just one big blob of yellow, but the guy is pretty much just one gray dot. It feels like he’s kind, but Inoichi can’t trust him. Inoichi snatches Sis’s hand, and is about to scold her when Bro cries out in relief and skids to a stop next to him. Bro wraps both of them up in a hug too tight for comfort. “Oh God, thank God, thank you Lord, thank you, I found you, Jesus Christ, I found you, thank you.” They stay like that a moment, until Bro turns to look at the gray dot. Something happens that Inoichi can’t remember and then Bro smiles and says, “Thank you.”

Inoichi rolls in bed and pokes Bro. “So. That guy we met at Coney Island. He was pretty cute.” Bro stiffens but doesn't say anything. Inoichi pouts and pokes him harder. “The two of you were giving each other googly eyes, dude. It was sweet enough to give me cavities on the spot. Seriously.”

Bro glares at Inoichi. “I’m not gay, twerp. Now leave me alone.”

Inoichi rolls his eyes. “And I must confess that I’m a flying purple hippopotamus. Look at me soar.”

Bro scowls and pushes Inoichi right off the bed, snarling at him, _at me_ , and all Inoichi can think about is that Bro has never, _ever_ , looked this scary before. Soon they’re screaming at each other and the room is a mess and _I just want to tell him that I love him, I love my brother no matter what_ , that Inoichi loves Bro because he’s Bro, and he can be gay or straight or blue or orange or rainbow or a fucking giraffe, _I’ll always love you_ , why can’t he just see that?

Inoichi clutches a pillow to his chest, crying in stoney silence, vacantly staring at the TV where Naruto is showing again.

_**Inoichi scrambles for a way to set himself free. He’s in too deep. He has to leave, has to get out, has to be himself again because he’s losing himself, he’s becoming her, and he can’t afford that. He has his clan. He has his wife. He has Ino. But the episode comes on, and Inoichi can only watch in horrified silence as Naruto once again battles off against an opponent ridiculously out of his league, and succeeds. He thinks he understands now, what this girl meant when she said Naruto was just a manga. Ino watches anime of her favorite manga, too. Inoichi doesn't want to think about what that means about his world, his life, but he leaves it for another time. For now, he catalogues the fight between Orochimaru and Tsunade, and then goes back to trying to find a way to break out of the from the memories.** _

“Faggot,” Ma shrieks. “You’re a _fucking_ faggot, and you--you think you can act like that around _my girls_?” 

“ _Your girls_ , you say that like you’ve ever been there for them! Don’t talk shit to me Ma, you have no right! You’ve _never_ been there for them! You just drink yourself to death every goddamn night and _I, I’m_ the one who’s raised them! I’ve fed them, clothed them, paid the rent for this fucking apartment and paid for the fucking groceries and all these _fucking_ bills and you’ve _never_ , not once have you--”

When the harsh crack of a slap rings through the air, Inoichi scoops up his sister and covers her ears. Sis cries softly into his shirt, and he shushes her gently as they make their way into their bedroom. Inoichi places his headphones over Sis’s ears and selects some calming music to play. Then he turns on the TV, flicks the channels until he catches sight of a Naruto rerun, and leaves it there. Sis eventually quiets down, though her harsh grip on his-- _my_ \-- _ **their**_ hand never loosens, even though this episode is a particularly humorous one. The distortion of the memories gives him the sweet relief of not having to hear the fight going on just outside the door.

_**Inoichi wants to claw his own skin off. He doesn't understand, how can this be, how can his whole world be nothing but a TV show. It doesn't make sense. He doesn’t want it to make sense, he just wants to go home, he wants his family. He hates this, he regrets every bit of it, he’ll never do Ibiki another favor again. He knows too much now, doubts too much, and he can’t help but have existential crisis after existential crisis, because if they are in a TV show, then Naruto is the main character, and that means everyone else is free game after Naruto, and why is Naruto so important, why can’t it be Ino damn it, and are they living in a television, are their actions their own choices or is someone out there writing down every decision for them, he can’t take this and he doesn’t want to take this, he wants to go home.** _

“I love you.”

Bro looks at Inoichi in confusion. “I love you too?”

Inoichi shakes his head, and has no idea how to say this without causing a fight. They’re doing dishes now, but Ma was at the dinner table for the first time in weeks, and she’d made some pretty nasty comments to Bro about him being gay. Inoichi just wants him to understand that it doesn't matter what Ma says, it’s never mattered what Ma says, because his sisters _love him_. “I love you. We love you. No matter what.”

She looks him in the eye, because he needs to understand. Bro starts blinking rapidly, and he turns away from her. “Finish washing the dishes,” he tells her, but his voice is rough and she hopes that perhaps he finally understood.

They’re back at the amusement park again. Inoichi--no, not him, me, myself, herself, Rubles laughs at something Sis, no wait her sister’s name is MJ, says. Bro, hold on, Tim, manages to crack a smile, and Rubles’ heart soars. It’s been so long since Tim has smiled, and it feels so good to see it again. She has to capture it. She squishes MJ to her side and hands her phone over to Tim, glaring at him in jest and saying, “You’d better smile, you brat.” Tim does smile then, broad and nostalgic but just a little carefree, and he stretches his arm out and snaps a selfie.

She sets it as her home screen on her iPod.

_**Inoichi shatters through the mosaic of memories, and surges out of oblivion.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ugh," you think. "Another darn story about an abused OC running away to live in the Narutoverse. Of _course_." Now hold your stankin' horses, reader, but you're so off the mark it ain't even funny, dawg. Just hold on for a while longer, m'kay? I promise you, that once you see the truth, you'll be plenty surprised. This ain't no BS AU, it's The Shit is Real AU. Just hold on tight and wait for that same shit to hit the fan, 'aight?
> 
> (Hey, if it really hurts you that much, commenting/reviewing/PMing are all things you can do, yanno.)


	8. GET ME THE HOKAGE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title:The One Where Inoichi’s Existential Crisis Causes Him To Disobey A Direct Order

Inoichi staggers out of her mind and collapses to his knees. Immediately, a team of medic nin are swarming around him, and Ibiki pushes through them all to grasp his shoulders and face him dead on. Inoichi’s head spins with what he just learned, and he feels like his consciousness is swimming through sludge. The influx of information from his projection-self is almost too much to understand, and he wishes it was.

“Inoichi,” Ibiki shakes him, and only then does Inoichi realize that the Commanding Officer of T&I has been trying to get his attention for the past thirty seconds. Inoichi directs his gaze towards Ibiki and does his absolute best to look alert and present. He’s about 87% sure he fails.

Ibiki holds eye contact. “Report.”

Inoichi opens his mouth to do just that, but then he thinks about how Uzumaki Naruto is the main character of a manga/anime in which various attacks on Konoha are commonplace and the rest of Konoha, _every other person in Konoha_ , is nothing more than a supporting cast to him. Inoichi thinks about how he feels right now, about how his perception of reality is in complete shambles, about how badly he’s trembling and how the goosebumps traveling up his arm _feel_ real but might not be, because he is but a simple character in an anime. He is nothing more than sketches on paper and a voice actor paid to read a script. So Inoichi goes against a direct order and instead says, “Get me the Hokage.”

Ibiki’s face becomes pinched. “Inoichi, this is an _order_. You are to report your findings--”

Inoichi screeches, “ _GET ME THE HOKAGE!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive gotten so many positive reviews, im so grateful. you guys have no idea how hard im working on this fic, and to see you guys bothering to take the time to leave me something, anything, like wow. its. its really heartwarming. thank you all so much
> 
> <3 ^///^ ;3 :* TvT ^U^ ＼(^3^)／


	9. I'm going to die here, aren't I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can't believe that she's been transported to Konoha, of all places. Well guess what, the Hokage can't believe it either.

When she next wakes, it’s with a splitting headache. The absolute whiteness of the room doesn’t help. 

Her head is heavy on her weak shoulders. It throbs in time with her heartbeat, and she exhales shakily through a sudden wave of nausea. She doesn’t know where she is, but she’s currently in a chair. Tied down to the chair, actually, because she can’t move her hand to her face. She groans in frustration. What was she doing? How did she end up here?

Screwing up her face in thought, she avoids the terrible headache and overall exhaustion she’s currently experiencing, trying to retrace her steps. Well, clearly she was unconscious before she regained consciousness in this room. And there’s no way she would just fall asleep tied down to a chair like it’s a bed or anything. So that means, by default, someone kidnapped her _and decided to look through her memories so she told Inoichi that she was from another world--_

_Holy shit she’s in Konoha._

“Shit!” She lurches in her seat and tries to yank off her bindings. It doesn’t work. “Shit, shit, shit fuck shit fuckers!” She jumps and wiggles around, trying to get the chair to turn over, but it’s bolted down. She’s in the White Room again. She can’t tell where the floor meets the ceiling, she doesn't even know where the light is coming from, there’s a shadow before her so she guesses that’s a table and the light should be coming from above then, but she doesn’t want to be here anymore! She doesn’t want to be strapped to a chair, trapped inside a room, arrested within the walls of _Konoha_ of all places!

“Help! Please! Hey, listen, I’m a good guy, I’m on your side, yeah, Akatsuki totally sucks! I mean, not really, they’re actually pretty cool--no wait, shit, no! No, no, that was just a joke, humor, you know, just...Fuck. FUCK!”

She lets her head fall limp, and she blankly stares at the floor. Her head is a swirling mess of just _stuff_ , stuff she doesn’t understand. She’s got names and places and memories spilling everywhere, and it’s taking all her concentration to just _focus_. She has to force herself to remember that she is, well, herself. That she is strapped to a chair. That she has to get out of Konoha. Everything else is irrelevant.

She can’t exactly remember why she has to leave Konoha, though, so maybe… Wait! No! She has to _focus. Focus._

_Focus, Rubles, focus. I know you can do it._

Her head whips around, eyes wild and searching for anything other than the blank expanse of white within the room. “Who said that?” She can’t see anything different. “Hello?” She swallows in fear, only just now becoming aware of the sweat trailing down her forehead. She can’t remember the last time she took a shower, or the last time she ate. She can’t even remember the last time she used the bathroom.

_Timmy!_

She gasps again, jolting in response to the little girl’s voice. “Can you hear me? Help me, please!” Right before her eyes, a ghostly image of a figure swirls into focus. The transparency only reveals the vague outline of a child running, almost in slow motion, across the room.

_Timmy, can I give Rubles my lollipop? I know she’s sick, but maybe it will make her feel better._

For a single, precious moment, the chaos that currently is her mind settles itself enough for her to remember one thing. “Mary Jane?”

The door opens. She snaps her head back around to stare as two men walk in. The tall one has blue eyes and blonde hair done up in a high ponytail-- _Inoichi_ , her mind supplies sluggishly--and the short one is decked out in a white and red ensemble of cloth she doesn’t really understand. Inoichi frowns at her and pulls out a chair that she hadn’t noticed before to sit down across from her. The short guy does the same, and pulls off his ridiculous hat to set it on the table with the black insignia facing towards her. Apparently, the short guy is an old guy, which explains the height.

He also looks vaguely familiar, but her brain is working slower than a turtle at the moment. She focuses in desperation to remember his name. 

Inoichi speaks, and she startles at the sound. He falters, then starts up again. She stares at him, then at the Hokage--of course! The Third Hokage. That crazy old fart. Yeah, it makes sense that the Hokage is here. They probably consider her a security threat or something. She should probably focus on what Inoichi is telling her, but she can’t understand him anyways. Her head is spinning, she’s sweating all over, and she’s starting to shiver. She just wants to go _home_.

“Please, please. I just want to go home.” Inoichi pauses mid-sentence to listen to what she is saying. Her breath stutters when she glimpses at the Hokage, who has his entire focus solely on her, and her _alone_. It’s creepy. She sucks in a breath and rushes out, “Inoichi, Sarutobi, please let me go home. Home? Home, come on you have to know this. Home, please.”

Sarutobi leans back, leveling a scrutinizing glare at her before gruffly stating something in his hoarse, aged voice. Both the smoking and his age haven’t been kind to him, and yet he commands an aura of strength that is undeniable. Just being in his presence is making her nervous. 

She swallows around the dryness in her throat as Inoichi starts talking again, doing everything in her ability to _make her brain think_. She doesn’t understand why it’s so difficult for her to function. She’s a trembling, sweating mess, and everything is going at once too fast and too slow for her to compute, but she knows that she just has to find a way to stay alive. If she can make herself valuable to them, then they won’t kill her. Once she can think again, she’ll escape, and find her way back home. Yes. Yes, that’s her plan. That’s her _only_ plan. _It has to work._

“Naruto,” she whispers. Inoichi stops talking again, staring at her with a look that seems to be giving off a warning. The Hokage’s stare is even more intense than before. She clears her throat again. “Naruto Uzumaki, Kyuubi.”

The Hokage rises out of his chair and she _crumbles_. The air becomes oppressive and _crushes_ her under its weight. The immense pressure _squeezes_ her breath right out of her lungs. She jerks in her chair, choking under the weight of just _everything_. Her eyes dart from side to side, and her body lays limp with her mouth hanging open like a fish, trying frantically to suck in any air it can. The tremors from before double in intensity, and soon she’s lurching against her restraints, desperate just to _breathe_.

Sarutobi walks around the table to stand in front of her, and all the while she just--she just wants--she tries to breathe but can’t. He stands before her. Her eyes roll back in her head, and where there was disorientating white there is now all-consuming black. Everything's dark, and all she can hear are her own gasping breaths, sucking in everything but what they need. Air is precious, she belatedly realizes. Breathing is a privilege. I must not deserve it anymore.

And then air comes _whooshing_ back and she _breathes._

It is beautiful.

She takes deep, heaving gulps full of glorious air. It’s stale and faintly smells of tobacco but it’s _air_. She takes full advantage of it, and manages to stop the wild flailing of her body. She’s still sweating, she’s still shaking, but she’s breathing again and that’s all that matters. In front of her, Sarutobi gives her a demanding look, and behind the Hokage, Inoichi also stands, pale and very deliberately taking in controlled breaths.

Sarutobi clears his throat, and her attention drifts towards him in that half-panicked, half-relieved way of those who are recovering from almost sure death. She swallows, and as the Hokage starts talking again, she decides the only thing keeping her alive right now is whatever she can find in her brain that is useful to them. 

“I know all the jinchuuriki! I, I know all their names, I swear I do, I just…” the names are on the tip of her tongue, but her brain is even slower from the oxygen-deprivation and all she can think of right now is that Sarutobi is getting _mad_ , and if he gets mad she’ll _stop breathing_ , and she really doesn't want to stop breathing anymore.

“Gaara!” her brain spits out via mouth, and the rest just start flowing. “Yugito! Yeah, she’s the cat lady. Then there’s the man-child, the Mizukage, what was that fucker’s name? Oh, Yagura! Um, four-tails...FUCK! Four-tails was, uh, he was from Iwa, Han right? The big tall dude? Yeah, then Son Goku. No, no wait that was the five-tails name, he was housed by...Shit, I can’t remember his name! Shit fuck SHIT!”

She glances upwards in fear to see Sarutobi still glaring down at her, but the threat in his face has gone from ‘imminent death’ to ‘considering painful alternative’. Inoichi, on the other hand, is looking like he almost wants to smile, eyes wide with intrigue. The blonde man starts scribbling away on a notepad that he’d apparently pulled from beneath his cloak, before he looks up and asks, “Yugito?”

She almost blinks in confusion, but a rather violent convulsion sends her jolting forward with a grunt. Saliva is gathering in the back of her throat, like in those moments just before she’s about to throw up. “Yugito,” she croaks. “Yugito, Kumo. Yagura, Kiri. Han, Iwa.” Sarutobi leans away from her, humming in thought before muttering something. Inoichi lets out a strangled cough-laugh, and continues jotting down notes while responding. She watches the exchange with shaky vision, her fingers twitching without her consciously making them. She understands, in some dulled part of her dumbed brain, that all this sweating, all these shivers, all this nausea means something disastrous is happening to her health, but the more immediate danger of _staying alive_ takes precedence over a doctor’s visit. She swallows down the buildup of saliva and tries again. She can’t remember all the jinchuuriki’s names, since she’s sure she’s missing Son Goku’s guy, and for some reason she can’t remember if Han comes before or after, but they’re both from Iwa so Konoha is bound to realize that if they take the time to investigate it.

“Gaara, Suna. Yugito, Kumo. Killer Bee, Kumo. Yagura, Mizukage, Kiri. There was another one from Kiri, actually.” Bubble Dude, right? Didn’t he defect? Doesn’t matter. “Fuu, and she’s from the Waterfall village thing. I can’t remember it’s name. Um, so that’s one tails, two tails, three, uh, Han, Iwa, and Iwagakure has four and five, six is Kiri, seven is Fuu, eight is the rapper dude from Kumo… I think that’s it.” She looks to the Hokage beseechingly. “Suna, Kumo, Iwa, Kiri, Konoha.” Which, haha, great five, and that one minor village she can’t remember. “Gaara, Yugito, Killer Bee, Han, Yagura, Fuu.” Please let that old man suddenly start having grandfatherly feelings for her. Please oh please oh please.

Inoichi finishes writing things down and says something to the Hokage. The Hokage grunts, then abruptly leaves the room. Now it is just Inoichi and her. She bites her lip and squints against a wave of dizziness, panting a little after she manages to shake it off. What does this mean for her? Will the Hokage kill her now? She gave too much. She gave too much, and now they don’t need her anymore. She’s going to die. She’s going to have her throat slit by a kunai, and she’ll die never remembering her name, or her home, or her family. She’ll die without having done anything important in life other than give Konoha the advantage in the silent jinchuuriki war. She’s so fucking screwed, and it’s all because she’s sick with something that’s making her sick, and she can’t think properly, so she can’t plan properly, and her headache hasn’t gone away this entire time, and she still hasn’t chewed on any gum! 

_Can’t chew Spearmint when you’re dead, now can you?_

She breaks under the pressure, inhaling brokenly and letting it out in a low whine. Tears gather at the edges of her eyes. She can’t remember her mother, or father. She can’t remember ever having any siblings. She doesn’t even know her own _name_ , and now she’s going to _die_ , and it would _all be for nothing!_

A gentle touch lingers hesitantly on her forehead, and she startles for a moment. The hand is cool against her heated, goosebumped skin, and she follows it till Inoichi’s face appears within her vision. With desperation she whispers, “Home?” The man sighs, looking at her with pity, before mumbling something and leaving the room.

She bows her head, staring longfully at where the door disappeared into the wall. “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...many...italics... _urrrrgh_


	10. Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hokage must decide between fiction and reality, and how best to take advantage of both.

Hiruzen waits until Inoichi finishes instructing the medic on taking care of the prisoner before proceeding together to his office. His mind is awhirl with thoughts. How is it that such a young girl came across such valuable information? Who told her Konoha’s secret? Obviously, it could only have been one of his own shinobi. The thought that his own people have jeopardized their home makes his frown tighten with irritation. He’s attempted multiple times to prevent gossip about Konoha’s jinchuuriki, but Danzō’s suggestion of simply sealing away every shinobi’s free speech had him loosening his grip a little. Danzō may be Hiruzen’s closest friend, but the Hokage is not blind to the other’s faults.

That being said, no word had left Konoha’s walls about the identity of their jinchuuriki. Or so he had thought.

Hiruzen allows Inoichi to open the doors to the Hokage’s office before entering and placing the hat on his table. With thin lips and stiff movements, Hiruzen piles the papers strewn across the surface of his desk into a somewhat neat stack and pushes them into the drawer mentally labeled ‘Look At Later’. Mission reports, mission requests, and budget reviews could wait until after he was finished acting upon a matter of village security. Hiruzen sinks into his chair with a sigh born of old age and new stress, motioning for Inoichi to do the same. Inoichi sits down, and the office becomes quiet for a moment.

“Hokage-sama, excuse my interruption, but I would like to point out that the girl’s knowledge of previously unknown jinchuuriki only gives credit to what I said before. I think we should start considering placement within the village--” Inoichi begins.

“Inoichi-kun.” The Hokage interrupts. “The names of the jinchuuriki are old news. Jiraiya-kun is most resourceful when it comes to that type of information.” Hiruzen laces his fingers together in front of his face and watches as Inoichi swallows nervously. The Yamanaka clan head has too many tells, especially for one in Intelligence work. Perhaps it is only because of this specific situation, but Hiruzen will keep him off-duty for a while longer yet. 

Hiruzen sighs. “Inoichi-kun, you cannot honestly expect me to believe that all of this, our entire world and all the people in it, are just fabrications of a man who wrote manga, of all things, for a living. Believing that some flimsy plot-line dictates our entire _existence_ … Frankly, it’s ridiculous, and I expected you to be better than that, Inoichi-kun.” Already, Hiruzen is running through a list of psychologists that can provide treatment for Inoichi. The poor fellow has been in one head too many.

Inoichi flushes, with embarrassment or frustration, Hiruzen cannot tell. At the moment, both are a strong possibility. “With all due respect, Hokage-sama, you’re wrong. I understand you think I’m crazy, but I give you my word that I’m not. This girl really _does_ come from a world different than ours, and she truly believes that we’re just characters in a manga. I noticed that she only named five jinchuuriki. I didn’t know Konoha knew about those specifically, but there are nine jinchuuriki total. I’m sure she can tell us the rest. And that’s not all. If she remembers anything, anything at all, from the anime, than she can tell us about future threats to Konoha. We can take advantage of that and make a preemptive strike!”

Hiruzen will admit to some curiosity concerning the last name mentioned by the prisoner. ‘Fuu’ is one he hasn’t heard before, and he will pass the information on to Jiraiya for a thorough investigation. At the moment, though, he is more concerned with the prisoner, their health status, and their origin. What kind of jutsu did they use to make Inoichi believe something so outrageous? How did they come across such delicate information? Which village are they working for? These are all matters of dire significance, and as such he doesn’t have the time to waste trying to settle Inoichi’s addled mind.

Noting Hiruzen’s silence, Inoichi deflates slightly. “You don’t believe me.”

Hiruzen decides that sugar-coating things for delusional ninja is not in his job description. “You’ve gone insane, Inoichi-kun. Do not worry, I will give you the best medical treatment Konoha has to offer. You have done Konoha a great service throughout the years, and as head of the prominent Yamanaka clan, you will be taken care of. If you will excuse me, I have a village to run. You are dismissed.”

Inoichi flushes once more, and now Hiruzen is certain this time it is with anger. “I am _not insane!_ I’m trying to explain to you what I saw and--”

“Inoichi, you’d best take that troublesome attitude of yours somewhere else. It has no place in this office.” Shikaku climbs into Hiruzen’s office through the window and bows respectfully to the Hokage. “Excuse my troublesome teammate, Hokage-sama. The stress of this situation is getting to everyone.”

Hiruzen sighs again. “Not to worry, Shikaku-kun. I wasn’t personally offended by it.” Hiruzen declines to state that it did, however, annoy him slightly.

Shikaku walks over to place a steady hand on Inoichi’s shoulder, and the Yamanaka visibly takes a deep breath. Shikaku then redirects his attention to Hiruzen, falling into attention easily.

“Hokage-sama, I have reviewed the information you provided to me about our most recent prisoner. I have the initial interrogator, the Head of Torture and Investigation, and the leading investigator from R&D on this case outside. May I invite them in for a more educated discussion on the subject?”

Hiruzen nods his head, old but still sharp gaze settling once more on Inoichi. The man’s behavior puzzles the Hokage. Inoichi has always been one of the most loyal, hard-working, and law-abiding ninja within the Yamanaka division of T&I. Hiruzen can admit that it is strange for Inoichi to display such insubordinate behaviour. If one is to blame recent circumstances on the abrupt change in behaviour, then that means either a) Inoichi believes, and therefore the subject believes, the absurd explanation of other worlds and everything being a manga, b) Inoichi has gone insane due to exposure to said subject’s mind, or c) Inoichi has recently encountered the subject’s mind and recalled his true identity, and since he is no longer a sleeper, he will try to destroy Konoha from inside out, starting with the Hokage’s sanity.

Obviously, option c) can immediately be dismissed since Hiruzen has known Inoichi since the man was in diapers, for Sage’s sake. Hiruzen doesn’t particularly want to believe that one of his greatest assets within the Interrogation division has gone insane, but it’s a much simpler explanation than the world suddenly being nothing more than a product of a mangaka’s imagination.

Which is so thoroughly preposterous that Hiruzen can’t even bring to mind enough synonyms to describe how foolishly ludicrous it all is. It’s simply so removed from common sense that it cannot be considered a reasonable explanation.

Ibiki enters, along with Nara Hisako and Kaname Megumi. Upon entering, they all bow, with Ibiki discreetly sending a withering glare in Inoichi’s direction. “Hokage-sama,” they intone as one. Hiruzen almost doesn’t stop himself from sighing. It appears that Ibiki is still somewhat bothered by Inoichi’s decision to go over his head and straight to Hiruzen. Sometimes, Hiruzen wonders if he is dealing with prepubescent children stuck in overgrown adult bodies. Even worse, it’s sometimes not that far from the truth.

“Ibiki-kun, please begin the report,” he orders. Ibiki nods and proceeds to execute his command.

“At 0900, subject arrived at Village Gates. Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo were on duty, along with nearby patrol officers Yamamoto Gorou, Miyamoto Ichirou, Matsumoto Nanako. Subject apparently had a panic attack outside of Village grounds. Hagane-san alerted Yamamoto-san to bring in subject for medical attention. At the hospital, Ryūgen Hajime, kept subject unconscious for medical scan. Medical scan revealed subject’s age to be around 12-14 years, to be below average height and below average weight, and to have received poor medical care. We could not find any medical records matching subject’s within village, so we are assuming subject’s origins are foreign.”

Ibiki walks forward and places a manila folder on Hiruzen’s desk. Hiruzen briefly leafs through a few pages, motioning for Ibiki to continue.

“Subject carried a messenger bag with several possessions inside. R&D claimed custody over the items while I sent Kaname-san, an accomplished interrogator, to question the subject. Kaname-san, please continue the report.”

Ibiki steps back in line with the others, and Megumi steps forward while Hiruzen waves Shikaku closer to pass him the folder.

“Thank you, Morino-taicho. Thank you, Hokage-sama.” Megumi bows before Hiruzen, and Hiruzen recalls how polite Megumi has always been, even as a child in the Academy. Hiruzen still finds it endearing, but now is not the time to reminisce on the past.

“I began questioning the subject at 1400, after Ryūgen-san finished their medical scan. It was clear from the beginning that subject and I would not be able communicate. I first assumed it was because of faulty sleeper agent procedures, but with further questioning, I came to the conclusion that the subject was speaking syllables entirely alien to our language. Upon realizing so, I attempted to persuade the subject into giving me their name. This failed, as it triggered another panic attack. I prevented the attack from becoming severe by using iryo-ninjutsu.

“The subject displayed strange behavior in response to iryo-ninjutsu. Their body worked together with my chakra to cancel the panic attack, but during that time I also recognized the subject displaying signs of intoxication. Canceling my jutsu resulted in aforementioned signs stopping. I tried to convince the subject to reveal their village of origin, and presented a map to the subject. Though their eyes lingered on Uzushiogakure, the subject proceeded to draw a map of their own.”

At this, Shikaku makes a noise of interest, and places a page on Hiruzen’s desk. Hiruzen glances at it briefly, immediately understanding its significance and thoroughly washing his hands clean of any hopes that perhaps the subject was an uneducated civilian with little understanding of geography, and therefore their ignorance was the reason for this mess. The hasty sketch shows several different bodies of land, distanced in such a way that they couldn’t have ever existed as one great continent, like the Elemental Nations. He idly notes the area circled, and glances back at Megumi for the rest of her report.

“I decided to change tactics. Killing Intent caused the subject to react negatively, and once again they regressed into a panic attack. I pressured a little more, testing if the subject was faking it. They were not. I canceled my KI and left the room to report.”

Megumi bows once more and steps back into line. Hiruzen strokes his beard, and twitches a few fingers on his left hand. Genma, masked and in full hunter-nin gear, appears before Hiruzen, down on one knee with their right hand fisted over their heart. Hiruzen knows that Genma will stay silent throughout this interaction, in order to keep the anonymity that comes with being a hunter-nin.

“At attention, hunter-nin.” Genma silently rises into attention.

“Can you testify for Megumi-chan’s report?” Genma nods.

“Good. The report here says that after Megumi-chan left the room, you collected the subject and placed them back on the hospital bed while alerting Ryūgen Hajime. Is this true?” Genma nods.

“It also states that you have continued to guard the subject, even after they were transferred from the hospital to T&I, without having explicit orders to do so. Is this true?” Genma’s takes just a millisecond longer to nod, but it’s enough for Hiruzen to understand that Genma is perhaps doubting the wisdom of his decision to continue watching over the prisoner without orders. Hiruzen considers his options for a moment, and decides that Genma’s experience and personal emotions with these matters, specifically children, outweighs the potential of Genma going traitor with the prisoner. One could consider Genma’s actions to be insubordinate, but Hiruzen will choose to view them as simply proactive thinking and proof of leadership material, until evidence suggests otherwise.

“Thank you. You may stay present for now.” Genma nods one last time and steps back, appearing to fall in line while also somehow camouflaging with the rest of the office. If one is to look closely at him, they will see him, but generally he is enacting the art of wallflowering, so to speak.

Hisako steps up to continue the report. “While T&I were performing their first interrogation, R&D requested my team to study the subject’s possessions.” Hisako sighs heavily and loosens her stance to something distinctly Nara-like. “To make this troublesome explanation as concise as possible, I’ll just say this; those objects are completely alien to us.”

Hiruzen pointedly raises an eyebrow, silently ordering Hisako to elaborate.

Hisako exhales even deeper, and if Hiruzen wasn’t so familiar with the Naras then it would’ve annoyed him. As it is, Hiruzen is more than acquainted with the typical Nara laziness. Geniuses, the lot of them, and yet they are perhaps collectively the reason why the sin of sloth exists. “Well,” the researcher starts. “The subject carried several textbooks, all containing lengthy passages of text consisting of characters we are wholly unfamiliar with. Several photographs within the textbooks, specifically the one with the giant, um, I don’t know what to call it. Pass me the folder, Kaku-chan?”

Inoichi and Ibiki both cough rather abruptly, Hiruzen sighs, and Shikaku’s eyebrow twitches as he sighs and hands over the folder to Hisako. Hisako grins cheekily at Shikaku, and Megumi hmphs imperiously. Hiruzen wonders when exactly he became surrounded by children.

“Thanks. Anyways, the textbook with this cover,” she holds up a picture of a book with large, blocky lines and a picture of a blue orb with green blotches blending to peach, “contained mostly maps. Not to go too into detail, but the textbooks got larger in size, the symbols of text got smaller, and the pictures more infrequent. One of them had very detailed images of the chemical bonds between elements, atoms and stuff like that, and another at one point accurately depicted the anatomy of a ship. Basically, we weren’t able to understand why the subject would need books of such varying specializations, and we couldn’t use them to clue in on where they came from, other than obviously being of someplace completely unknown to the Elemental Nations.”

Hisako places the picture back and pulls out another one. “See this? It’s some form of mobile technology, but we can’t figure it out. There are only three buttons on it, each with separate functions. The screen displays something different depending on which button is pressed, and for how long. We didn’t bother taking it apart, because it could be anything from a communication device to a bomb. The metal it’s made of is entirely foreign to us, too, so I decided not to mess around with it too much, seeing as the subject isn’t hostile.”

Hisako hands the folder back to Hiruzen and shrugs. “I could go on tangents talking about the strange contraptions we found, the methods we went about deciphering them, how we’ve attempted to tackle the Textbook Phenomena, as my team has taken to calling it, but then we’d be here until nightfall. To sum it up, I came to the conclusion that we are dealing with something wholly out of our element, here. Honestly, I was hoping T&I could’ve helped answer some of our questions, but it seems like this troublesome situation isn’t pulling any punches.” The woman sighs long and hard. “I’m telling ya’, being in Research can be such a drag.”

The edges of Shikaku’s lips twitch up a bit. “That felt a little forced there, Hisako. Is your Nara running out because of old age?”

Hisako casually grins back. “Just remember that if Yoshino hadn’t whipped your ass into shape, I would’ve been made your wife, Kaku-chan.” Hisako winks. “In fact, I’m expecting her to meet with me soon, so that we can reminisce over your pansy ways.”

Hiruzen watches in silent amusement as Shikaku pales and flushes at the same time. Strange, how that happens sometimes. Hiruzen scans the contents of the folder once more, then asks, “What conclusions have you come to so far, Shikaku?”

Inoichi appears to take offense to not being allowed to report, but Hiruzen has a good reason for doing this. As such, Hiruzen is still of the mind that Inoichi is suffering from a terrible jutsu backlash, and hopes that Shikaku can give him something more concrete than whatever silly reason Inoichi can provide.

Shikaku exhales with a distinct note of frustration. “This is just as much of a drag to me as it is to you, Hokage-sama. The belongings confiscated and analyzed by R&D indicate alien origins, based off the scripts of the textbooks, the assorted images within them, and the metal and properties of the technology. I’ve never encountered any written symbols like this before, including ancient texts from other villages and various archaeological findings. We can’t make sense of the images, or what they represent, and the machinery the subject carries is beyond our understanding. We’re facing the unknown here. We can’t even interrogate the prisoner properly because they speak another language.” Shikaku clicks his tongue in obvious annoyance. “Troublesome. All I can really determine right now is that the subject has no prior ninja training, or has had their memory wiped clean. All signs point to civilian and place of origin being out of the Elemental Nations’ jurisdiction.”

Surprisingly, Megumi interrupts, “Please excuse my interruption, but there is nothing beyond Elemental Nations.”

Shikaku nods in agreement. “Right. So, unless an advanced society has the troublesome capabilities to hide from us for more than a hundred years by living underground, somehow undetected, and honestly the technology presented here makes that somewhat plausible, then this girl appeared out of nowhere.”

“Or,” Inoichi interjects with a huff, “She’s from another world, which is what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

Hiruzen sighs for the nth time during this conversation, and folds his hands diplomatically on his desk. “Inoichi-kun, I simply cannot accept your ‘interdimensional traveler’ theory. It just does not make sense.”

“I think it’s more than plausible for the subject to be from another world.”

All eyes turn to look at the R&D Nara. Hisako sighs lengthily at their hidden, yet shocked, expressions. “It’s a drag to have to explain this, since most of you should’ve already assumed as such. I can’t vouch for the whole life-is-an-anime thing, but I do know that it’s not that much of a stretch for the subject to originate in another dimension. Chakra is a very fickle thing. After all these years, and all five villages dedicating resources, we still have not yet discovered chakra’s limitations. Theoretically, you can do _anything_ , so long as you have chakra. Chakra literally negates the definition of the word impossible.”

Hisako pointedly glances at the picture of the Yondaime. “Remember him? The Hiraishin Jutsu, the Flying Thunder God Technique that was originally created and used by Senju Tobirama, the Nidaime Hokage, hailed as Master of all Jutsu? R&D still hasn’t decoded the Hiraishin’s secrets, but it’s widely accepted that it is a method of teleportation. If this theory is proven true, that would mean there exists a jutsu that can teleport oneself to any place in the entire world. And we all know about the Summoning Jutsu, thanks to the Sannin.” Hisako tilts her head in Hiruzen’s direction.

“Jiraiya-sama himself is quite adept at the Reverse Summoning Jutsu. Based on his first-hand accounts, R&D has correctly deduced that, the toad summonings at least, originate in another dimension, one that somehow resides within ours. A similar theory has been proposed for Shikkotsu Forest and Ryuchi Cave, though both are based upon data given when their corresponding Sannin we’re still ninja of the village. If we already know of three dimensions within our plane of existence, what’s to say there aren’t more?”

Hiruzen’s lips thin into a line. “Explain yourself, Hisako-chan.”

Hisako glances at her Head of Clan before continuing. “Extensive research within R&D have resulted in quite a few outlandish theories. We aren’t capable of proving a great number of them, and chakra makes everything twice as more troublesome, but when we consider the known dimensions of the Saninns’ Summonings, we can’t rule out the possibility of all summonings originating from dimensions within ours.”

Hiruzen calmly takes out his ancient pipe and lights it, drawing in a puff, before saying, “You’ll have to excuse this old man. Summonings residing in other dimensions is common knowledge, what I don’t understand is why you would believe this would apply to an entire civilization, Hisako-chan.”

“Why not?” Hisako shrugs.

“Because it’s ridiculous,” glares Megumi.

“It’s not ridiculous, it’s… outlandish.” snickers Hisako.

“Stop being troublesome, Hisako-chan.” sighs Shikaku. He then refers to Hiruzen with a thoughtful expression. “I have to say that I agree with Hisako, Hokage-sama. The Elemental Nations simply aren’t capable of producing something like this. We just don’t have the resources. If toads, slugs, snakes, and various other creatures are able to develop complex governments and their own variations of both communication and literacy inside a dimension separate to, but held within ours, then it’s more than plausible that the subject came from a situation similar to that of a summonings.

“Perhaps a group of humans, back during the Warring States era, conquered a summoning dimension and developed there all on their own. Or perhaps we are the ones that branched off. Maybe--”

“So we can all agree that what I’ve been saying this entire time is the truth, and move on to fixing this?” snaps Inoichi, impatiently and with a slight fidget.

Ibiki stares at Inoichi out of the corner of his eyes. “Now hold on, let the Commander finish speaking, shinobi. Or do you have something you need to do? A pressing appointment, a previous arrangement, or maybe an impromptu meeting somewhere? Did something happen you didn’t plan on?”

The air cools about thirteen degrees, and Hiruzen closes his eyes against the urge to roll them. _Children_ , he thinks, _mere toddlers playing at the game of life_. Ibiki’s insinuation that Inoichi is in cahoots with the prisoner is so obvious Hiruzen personally takes offense at its blatancy. The Head of T &I and the Head of the Yamanaka Clan have something of a healthy rivalry, but when they get into one of their moods, Hiruzen likens getting them to stop to pulling one’s own teeth out. It doesn’t help that they both have enough political sway to negate each other. Usually it will only amount to senseless bickering and an impromptu spar, but Hiruzen cannot tolerate such immaturity at the present time.

“I don’t have time for your infantile ways, Ibiki-kun, Inoichi-kun. I have a serious matter at hand, and the two of you acting like children won’t help. Before we continue making assumptions, I want the prisoner checked. They don’t appear to pose a threat, but they are still unknown, and I want to approach the situation with the proper precautions. Ibiki-kun, I’m taking this case and handing it over to Shikaku-kun. Inoichi-kun, you’re off the case, and that judgement is indisputable. Shikaku-kun, before you make any permanent arrangements regarding this case, I want to be notified. Provide daily reports directly to--”

Someone knocks. “Please excuse my interruption!” Hiruzen recognizes the voice of his assistant Okyō. 

“Come in, Okyō-chan.”

The chunnin pushes the door open, her orange hair held up in a bun, a clipboard in her hands, and a nervous expression on her face for interfering with an important meeting. She gathers herself up and walks stiffly towards HIruzen’s desk, placing a small note before him. Okyō steps to his side, glancing briefly at Shikaku before lowering her gaze and quietly waiting for his response. Hiruzen takes one look at the note and reaches for a hearty puff from his pipe. “Thank you, Okyō-chan. I will be there momentarily.”

Okyō bows deeply and scurries off, closing the door behind her.

Hiruzen stands, the joints of his knees creaking slightly. “It appears that our prisoner has contracted some sort of illness. Shortly after Inoichi-kun and I left, the prisoner fainted, and medical personnel were called to the cell. The prisoner was transferred back to the hospital and is currently in the ICU. Shikaku, I will join you there.”

As Shikaku walks to stand beside Inoichi, he asks, “May I request 24/7 surveillance on the prisoner, Hokage-sama?”

Hiruzen nods. “Certainly, you may. I will send them ahead of us. You are all dismissed”

Shikaku bows, and as one the other shinobi follow his example, excluding Genma. “Hokage-sama.” they chorus, then walk out the door.

Hiruzen sits down with a soft grunt, and motions for Genma to approach his desk. Genma drops into a kneel before Hiruzen’s chair. “Tell Shiranui Genma to report to Nara Shikaku, the Commander has a new mission for him. You are dismissed.” Genma nods and shunshines away. Hiruzen picks up the note and stares at the last line of the message, which boldly displays _NO CHAKRA_. 

Someone knocks on his office door again. “Come in,” calls Hiruzen. The door only opens slightly this time, and Okyō pokes her head in with an apologetic smile.

“Please excuse my interruption, Hokage-sama, but the Head of Staff at the hospital sent over some paperwork for you to file on their most recent admittee.” With all the sympathy of having done the same thing for years, and understanding the terror that is signing page after page, Okyō places the stack of papers on his desk and tiptoes out the room.

Hiruzen stares at the pile of documents, and sighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obligatory exposition chapter, sigh.
> 
> By the way, some chapters may have Danzou and Raidou and Fuu instead of Danzō and Raidō and Fū, but they all generally mean the same thing. One is the proper way and the other is the lazy English way.


	11. Good Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition chapters are necessary. They provide needed information in order to develop the plot and further involve the reader. Unfortunately, exposition in real life is nowhere near as brief as it tends to be in media. Life is pretty much just extensive exposition sprinkled with excitement. And if your life isn't 98.77% boring, then you're probably the main character of some fanfic somewhere, written by a bored no-lifer who procrastinates important things by doing whatever the heck first pops into their mind. Please see your doctor if you are in need of a reality check.

“It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of, sir. I don’t understand how it is possible for her to be alive right now without chakra!” exclaims Otoha-san. “Rie-sama has assigned a twelve-man rotational cycle to keep the poor girl receiving chakra. We only have apprentices and starting medics on the case, since the patient doesn’t have any specific or life-threatening injuries, but even inexperienced medic nin and nurses are a valued asset to the hospital. I’ve heard Rie-sama complain about how frustrating it is to be using resources on something this silly.” 

Otoha-san bites her lip in subtle disagreement. “I can’t help but think about how awful it is for her to say that. I understand that as a hospital we have to prioritize our patients, but I became a nurse because I wanted to save as many people as I could. Even the life of a disabled foreigner is important to me. And I can’t deny that I find it interesting how she has survived over a decade without a single drop of chakra in her system. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Shikaku nods in agreement with the nurse while his gaze fixes upon the patient. The patient--young teens, female, no physical indications of kunoichi training--lays still on a hospital bed, pale and unconscious. She looks to be halfway through the Shinigami’s front door. Shikaku sucks air through his teeth as he turns around and saunters away from the hospital room. 

“Troublesome.”  
\-----

“I pity her.” Inoichi says later that morning, staring sadly at the sickly figure resting upon the bed.

Shikaku leans against the wall, focusing his eyes away from the patient and instead onto his lifelong friend. “Hokage-sama won’t be happy to hear about you being here.” He can see the edge of Genma’s open-toe sandals hanging just below the window’s top sill. The tokubetsu jounin is probably using chakra to vertically relax on the brick walls. Even on the guard duty, that tokujo somehow manages to always come across as if without a care in the world. The Nara in Shikaku silently applauds it.

Inoichi’s eyebrows lower. “I’m here strictly as a visitor. I know I’m off the case, and I won’t ask you, or anyone else, for details, nor will I impede any investigations you, or anyone else, make. I understand that my actions prior to my dismissal proved that I was incapable of objectively handling this case, and I am always liable for my actions. As Head of my clan, that is my responsibility. That being said, I acknowledge my emotional involvement towards this patient, and I know that I must do everything I can to help her, even if it is simply staying by her side while she struggles to live.”

Shikaku wisely does not comment on Inoichi’s illogical support of a random foreigner.

Inoichi sighs and rubs his forehead, resting his elbows on the chair’s handrests. “Ask away, Shikaku.”

“What can you tell me about the subject’s state of mind?” inquires Shikaku.

“Her mind is strange. It’s vastly different than any I’ve encountered before. I wonder if that’s because she’s from a different world,” muses Inoichi. “I wasn’t able to deduce anything significant about her personality, other than she has a very strange mental image of herself, and she seems to value knowledge and family more than almost anything else. The vagueness of her memories, the momentary lapses in clarity, the disrupted flow of consciousness, and the collapse of her mind didn’t exactly help me.”

Shikaku rolls his head, trying to work out a twinge of pain in his right shoulder. “I thought maybe she used some sort of jutsu to trick you in her mindscape, but with this latest information… What a troublesome situation. I wonder if her lack of chakra has anything to do with the interference you experienced when you used your jutsu.”

“It’s because she’s dying,” Inoichi states bluntly. “My theory is that although her world doesn’t need chakra to function, ours does. Everything in the Elemental Nations has chakra, even the air itself. Therefore, it makes sense that something without chakra can’t exist.”

Shikaku mulls that over for a minute, then leaves the room with a quiet sigh of, “That’s such a drag to think about.”  
\-----

Shikaku stands upright on the hospital’s brick walls, chakra allowing him to stay upright even though he is now parallel to the ground. Genma lays before the Nara’s feet, also using chakra to stay on the wall, but perpendicular to the ground. The tokujo’s already settled in a lazy stance, with his hands behind his head and his feet stretched out before him, as if the bricks are comfy feather pillows. Shikaku’s foot lightly taps Genma’s shoulder. The man peeks an eye open, rolling the senbon hanging out of his mouth. 

“Hey, Commander. What brings you to the hospital?”

Shikaku will admit to anyone who cares enough to listen that Genma’s eternally casual drawl always gets on his nerves. Then again, Genma’s casual drawl gets on _everyone’s_ nerves, a feat previously thought to be achieved only by Nara. 

“You know people within ANBU, specifically the Hunter-Nin unit, right?”

Genma only raises an eyebrow in question, and even a little disbelief, rolling the senbon around in his mouth.

Shikaku shrugs. “I’m not asking for names. I just want to ask a quick question to the guard from this morning, the one that was watching over our foreigner over there.” Shikaku tilts his chin towards the window just below Genma’s hipbone.

Genma exhales softly and closes his eyes again. “Ah, I think I know the one you’re talking about. Ask me the question and I’ll pass it on.”

“I wanted to know exactly what were the actions the subject displayed just before Kaname-san interrogated them.”

Genma hums in thought, and chews on his senbon leisurely. “Lucky you, Commander. I recently talked to them, and it just so happened to come up in our conversation. From what little I could gather, it seems like the subject never really posed a threat. The subject only reacted after it was obvious they were being detained, and most actions were made to avoid contact and attempt to escape, not harm. Honestly, it was painfully obvious that the two were outmatched, and the subject ended up tripping over themselves anyway.” Genma’s lips twitch a little, a small smile stretching around his senbon. “Apparently the subject was irritated enough to throw the hunter-nin a middle finger.”

Shikaku’s eyebrow’s fly upwards, and he unabashedly snorts. “Seems like this subject has got a little fire in them.”

Genma smirks. “Can’t say I disagree with you, Commander. Though I do find it a little demeaning to keep referring to them as a subject.”

Shikaku glances through the window, spotting Inoichi still seated and staring at the young girl in the hospital bed. “What else are we supposed to call them? We can’t get a name with the language barrier.”

Genma looks back to the sky with a nonchalant expression, eyes fixed on a cloud merrily floating by. “I only said we shouldn’t call her that, not that I had anything better to suggest other than that.”

Shikaku stares at Genma for a moment, before rubbing a hand down his neck and then scratching at his goatee. “Keep an eye on her, Genma.” He tenses his legs to jump.

“Shikaku, wait.” Genma works his jaw for a moment, senbon bobbing, before softly asking, “How do you know? Even as Jounin Commander, that’s…”

Shikaku smirks. “I’m a Nara, Genma, and the Jounin Commander. All shinobi differ to me, and don’t forget you’re a jounin too. Only a tokubetsu, but that doesn’t make you any less of my responsibility. As a soldier under my command, it’s my job to ensure your safety to the best of my abilities. I will always do whatever I can to keep my people safe.”

“Huh, you’re actually kind of cool, Commander.” chuckles Genma. “I always thought you were too old to be cool.”

“I’m 38, brat. That’s only eight years older than you.” snaps Shikaku.

Genma gasps theatrically. “Wow, eight years? That’s even older than I thought! Gee, Commander, why don’t you take a quick lie-down, you might get heat stroke on a day like this--”

“Stop being lazy and stand at attention, soldier.” grunts Shikaku, and he leaps away with a grumpy expression. Genma’s laughs follow him, along with a receding cry of, “That’s rich coming from a Nara!”

Shikaku clicks his tongue. Fucking brat.  
\-----

Shikaku enters Ibiki’s office, respectfully nodding at the Head of T&I. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice Ibiki.”

Ibiki motions for Shikaku to sit, placing his elbows on his desk and interlocking his fingers. “It’s no problem, Commander. I expect you came here for my personal report of the prisoner?”

Shikaku nods and leans back, preparing to stay here for a while during Ibiki’s analysis of the subject.

Ibiki composes himself into a comfortable position, and begins, “My first impression of the subject, based solely on Kaname’s report, was that they were a failed sleeper implant into Konoha’s civilian population. I believe that my theory still stands; the ‘foreign language’ and ‘foreign map’ can be excused by a scrambled mind. Though I will admit that it would be something of a stretch, it certainly is not as much of a stretch as the prisoner being from an entirely different dimension.”

Shikaku pointedly arches an eyebrow at the personal anecdote. “Be professional Ibiki. It’s a drag to have to deal with your’s and Inoichi’s rivalry during times where village security is concerned.” Shikaku sighs as Ibiki’s lip curls before the interrogator composes himself. The people Shikaku works with were so troublesome sometimes.

“Excuse me, Commander.” Ibiki apologizes. “I don’t know much about the technology they carried, but I was able to retrieve a photo the subject carried.” Ibiki pulls out a page from the yellow folder open on his desk and hands it over to Shikaku, who scans it briefly before motioning for Ibiki to continue.

“I took a picture of their photo and was able to correctly deduce that both unknowns represented by the photo are of great importance to the prisoner. I suspect they are most likely family, either cousins or siblings through a single mutual parent. During my interrogation, I employed first a genjutsu. It’s normally used on prisoners of war or missing-nin that we are trying to obtain information form. It imitates the stress created by indeterminate timeflow and solitary confinement. It’s great for sweating out any tough-guys we have, but it tends to have very negative effects on the psyche of a civilian. The subject immediately caved to the stressor, so it’s safe to assume they were never trained, or have forgotten, how to manage their emotions like most shinobi are taught to do.

“I took advantage of that, and used Killing Intent to press for information. Just like with Kaname-san’s interrogation, they only responded with those strange sounds, which R&D claims is another language. In order to figure out if they were faking, I abstractly threatened the safety of the prisoner’s family by ripping the photo while still using Killing Intent. The prisoner seemed to get the message, and instead of meekly accepting it, reacted fiercely in opposition to me. In order to reestablish control, I enhanced my KI. The prisoner fainted not a moment later.”

Shikaku purposely does not react to Ibiki’s report. It takes a certain kind of immoral bastard to push a little girl to unconsciousness with only Killing Intent. Then again, in the world of shinobi, anything goes. “Your conclusions?” Shikaku inquires.

“They’re civilian, is what I thought right after they conked out.” Ibiki bluntly replies. “Only civilians fall from that meager amount of Killing Intent. They way they never sensed the genjutsu, or even tried to flare their chakra, just reeked of inexperience with any aggressor. We never found any weapons within their possessions, and the only time they acted aggressively was when they tried to escape from the hospital, and when I blatantly threatened their family. But that doesn’t really explain the whole map and language thing, now does it? Unless they’re crazy, of course, which we should never rule out.”

Shikaku stretches as he stands up from the chair. “Thanks for the input, Ibiki,” he yawns, and manders his way towards the door.

“Commander,” Ibiki begins, pausing briefly before asking, “Do you really think this girl is from another dimension?”

Shikaku turns with a carefully blank expression. “I don’t know yet, but it’s my job to find out. You’ll hear my conclusions when I get them, Ibiki.” With that, Shikaku walks out the door, wondering when exactly his life became so troublesome.  
\-----

“Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Kaname-san.” Shikaku greets as Kaname enters the room they’d agreed to meet in. It’s actually one of the cells in T&I, but it works for their purpose.

Kaname politely bows. “Thank you for considering me of importance in this matter, Commander.”

“There’s no question about the value of your input, Kaname-san. You’re a famously reputed member within T&I’s forces, and you were the first to meet with the subject. Your impression of them is just as influential as everyone else’s. Please, sit.” Shikaku explains, motioning to the chair across from him and lazily propping his elbow on the table so that he can later lean his head on his palm.

Kaname smiles briefly as she settles into the chair, saying, “Your words honor me, Commander. I am humbled by your consideration.”

Shikaku waves off her overly polite acceptance of his compliments, and offhandedly notes to himself that she must be valuable indeed, to come back from a mission with a scar so close to her jugular. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? I want to know your first impressions on the subject. I heard your review to the Hokage, but I particularly want to know about the physical reactions the subject had to your use of iryo-jutsu, both their language and map, and any other specific details you couldn’t share at the initial report.”

“Here is the map, sir,” she says as she hands over the page the subject drew on. Shikaku looks it over as Kaname allows herself a long moment of thought. “Regarding the language,” she begins, “I don’t think I will be of much help. I could attempt to replicate the sounds, but I can’t guarantee the accuracy of it.”

Shikaku folds the map up and stuffs it into a pocket on his jounin vest, gazing at the wall in thought. If there was an expert on phonetics and interpreting ancient languages, he’d bring them in to talk to Kaname. Except there hasn’t been a single record of anyone with such a selective career in his collective memory, and he used to spend his Academy days cutting class to shuffle through countless library books just for fun. The map also does not match any he’s ever seen before, and the only change between a map of today’s countries and a map from 100 years ago are the political boundaries and territories between lands. 

In other words, he’s pretty much got zero leads right now. 

“Let’s skip over the language, then. Tell me more about the subject’s reaction to chakra.”

Kaname takes a moment to collect her words, before saying, “When I used iryo-jutsu on the subject, it felt like I was trying to fill an endless void.” Shikaku’s steady gaze lands on Kaname, and she matches him in intensity.

“The body absorbed my chakra as fast as I could apply it.” she continues. “The rate of consumption was remarkable, if only in that it seemed as if it would never be fulfilled. I don’t know if her exposure to my chakra hastened her illness or delayed it, but I do know that if that girl is to survive, she will need chakra. Since the Mystical Palm technique appears to be effective, it’s best to continue using that. We cannot risk losing her while trying to find an easier alternative. I admit that I refuse to believe in Hisako-san’s theory of alternate dimensions without solid proof, but I am not blind to the advantages of having this foreigner on our side.

“I suggest attempting something to create something similar to a soldier pill. We already know that a soldier pill is like an adrenaline shot, forcing our body to the limit to produce chakra. If you can somehow emulate that process, but with the Mystical Palm Technique, it should suffice. It would keep her alive long enough to find another way, at least.” Kaname finishes her assessment with a gentle shrug.

Shikaku smiles at her. “I will consider your words carefully, Kaname-san. Thank you very much for your report.”

Kaname stands and bows as deeply as is appropriate. “I am at your service, Commander.”

Shikaku motions for her to leave. As the door shuts quietly behind her, Shikaku mentally reviews all the data he has collected. He stands, and grunts as his back pops. It’s been a long day, filled with troublesome news. He decides to do one more errand before he turns in for the night.  
\-----

“Hisako-chan, I’ve got a proposal for you.”

Hisako peers up through the fingers of her right hand, pausing in her attempt to rub away a headache. Shikaku yawns as he drops off a three-page proposal for her branch of the Research Department. 

“I know your team usually doesn’t focus on chakra supplements, but I need to keep this entire debacle low-key, and you’re the only ones who know and are in R&D.” Shikaku runs over this scenario one last time in his head, and figures the best way to ask his cousin to do the impossible, is simply to ask it. “I need your team to create a pill for the Mystical Palm technique."

Hisako jolts in a strange, aborted attempt to either escape completely from Shikaku’s range of sight, or throttle Shikaku bare-handed. All in all, she ends up jerking in her chair and banging her knee against her desk rather viciously. “Son of a bitch!” she hisses, before glaring up at him with gritted teeth “You can’t be serious, Shikaku!”

“D’you think I’d take the time to walk all the way over here without reason? That’s very troublesome of you to think of me, Hisako-chan. I figured you knew me better than that.” Shikaku states mildly, not caring much as Hisako blatantly ignores him and scans the proposal order with horrified interest.

“Shikaku-sama, I can’t… my team is strictly formed for mechanical research. Our expertise lies with engineering! You can’t expect us to--”

“Just engineer a pill that will initiate the Mystical Palm technique, then.”

“Shikaku!” she cries, anger and disbelief twisting her features into something unsettling.

“I know, Hisako.” Shikaku sighs. “But I don’t have another choice. The Hokage explicitly told me to keep this whole shebang under wraps, yet already we have three T&I high-ranking officers poking their noses and thirteen medical nin working directly with the patient. Including your team of four, the patrolling team that found her , and the gate nin that brought her in, and the various bodyguards she’s had, that brings the grand total of people exposed to this to 27. It’s ridiculously difficult having to constantly impress to them the importance of keeping their mouths shut. At most, I can spare you bringing three more people into this, but that’s it. If I had another choice you know I would take it, Hisako. I need this girl to live, and the only way she can live is with medical jutsu. There’s a detailed report in there, along with the Hokage’s approval to do whatever you need to do in order to speed this up. Experiments, materials, research, anything you need, you can get it with that.” Shikaku rolls a shoulder as he turns to face the door, wishing he didn’t have to do this to his own cousin. “I suggest you start with Orochimaru’s research into prolonged supplements and the collection of chakra into an inanimate object.”

Hisako stills, eyes blown wide. Shikaku swallows, reminds himself of his position as Jounin Commander, and walks out of his cousin’s office with a dismissive, “Good luck, Hisako-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time coming. Sorry that it took me this long, folks, but stuff's been rough. That being said, I'm planning on dumping a substantial amount of the exposition chapters within the next few days, so that maybe I can get back to writing the fun stuff. By the time you guys finally make it through the mind-numbing scenes that I tried to speed through but also give enough thought so it makes sense, I'll have some interesting stuff written for you to read on. Warning: This is actually supposed to be a realistic interpretation of FallenIntoNaruto!AU's though, so lot's of the chapters are probably going to be boring. Life tends to be like that, y'all. 
> 
> I also just wanted to say THANK YOU ALL. SO. MUCH. For reading, for reviewing, for glancing at the summary and snorting before scrolling on, I mean really. Thank you all. So much. I hope y'all are well, and be sure to take care and enjoy whatever it is you like enjoying.


	12. Troublesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes. Whether you are in the real world, or a manga world turned real, time will always go on. Stuck in a coma, our girl isn't doing anything particularly interesting at the moment. On the other hand, Konoha's Administration is jumping through hoops and breaking their minds three times over in order to figure out her secrets.

“‘Mornin’, dad.” Shikamaru yawns as he walks into the kitchen. Shikaku lets his eyes linger on his son’s form, grateful for his continued survival. The past two days were spent delving into whatever documents remained of Orochimaru’s experiments in an effort to find a way to create a pill that would produce or simulate the Mystical Palm Technique. Orochimaru’s clinical way of recording data was horrifying to read, if only because of its absolute detachment to the morbidity of his research. Sometimes, Shikaku will be reading about some poor boy lost to Orochimaru’s experimentations, and picture his son tangled within intravenous tubes and stuffed into a tank, blank-faced and pale from torture in the name of science. It shakes him to the core, and he has learned to treasure these quiet mornings spent with his son even more so than before.

“Good morning,” Shikaku smiles. He motions to the cereal box on the table in front of him and teases, “I suggest pouring yourself some cereal, but you’re more than welcome to cook yourself some eggs.” 

Shikamaru grimaces at the idea of trying to do anything that doesn’t require minimal brain activity this early in the morning, and reaches for the cereal. “Why isn’t mom taking care of this?” he grumbles.

“Watch it, Shikamaru.” Shikaku admonishes mildly. “Mother was called into R&D last night. It might be a while before we get to taste her delicious cooking again.”

Shikamaru takes his first bite and lazily chews it for a while before asking, “You gonna cook for us, then?”

“The last time I tried cooking anything, we had to replace all the furniture in the living room.” Shikaku deadpans. “So no, I will not be cooking for us. You’re just going to have to get used to take-out, brat.”

Shikamaru blinks for a moment, probably pondering if it would be worth it to ask for an explanation on why exactly the living room furniture had to be replaced if cooking was done only in the kitchen. He shrugs his shoulders, and they are both silent until Shikamaru finishes his breakfast, Shikaku grimacing through some more of Orochimaru’s reports all the while. The Academy student drops his bowl into the sink and yawns on his way out, calling, “I’ll be having dinner at Choji’s.” 

Shikaku chuckles for a moment, agreeing with his son’s choice to eat out, before sighing once again at the papers before him. He has so much work to do.  
\-----

Ōkei instinctively ducks, a dango stick sailing across his head and embedding itself in the wall next to him. He whirls around with a fearsome expression, lips curled back in a snarl, only to spot Mitarashi Anko clapping.

“Wonderful reflexes, Ōkei-san! Keep up the good work!” she jeers, already reaching for another stick of dango and turning back to her work.

Ōkei flinches at the sight of her and huffs indignantly, fear for his life cooling his head. He knows better than to taunt the Snake Mistress. His eyes flit towards his two associates, quickly assessing the change in attitude this past week has brought to them. 

Yui’s brown eyes are darker than he’s ever seen them, dulled with the knowledge of Orochimaru’s experiments. Bags cradle her eyes, and the sullen look on her face ages her beyond her years. Ōkei can’t blame her; poring day and night over Orochimaru’s personal observations on his tests is like reading a really good horror novel containing Kiri-levels of villainy. The worst part is that it’s all real.

Tessen reaches out to Yui and gently holds her hand in an attempt to comfort, but he doesn’t look much better than Yui herself. Even so, the lovebirds tentatively smile at each other, and as much as Ōkei wants to scoff at the naive display of affection, the sight of it lightens his heart. 

The week has taken its toll on all of them. Yoshino-sama, wife of the Nara Clan Head and Jounin Commander, recently joined their research team at the behest of Hisako-san for their latest project. Assigned to them by the Commander himself, they were tasked with creating a supplement to the Mystical Palm Technique, a feat he never thought even possible, let alone within their abilities to make. This team specializes specifically in the engineering and mechanical aspects of machinery and technology. To ask them to create a medicinal supplement is like asking a fish to breathe out of water.

Which is why Rie-sama, Chief of Staff at the hospital, brought Mitarashi Anko into their team. 

Ōkei glances back to the Snake Mistress, who catches his eye and winks cheekily back at him, twirling an empty dango stick through her fingers. He gulps and quickly averts his eyes. The strain her antics have taken on him have left him rubbing tension out of his neck for hours long after he retired for the night. Cleaning up her messes displeases him even more than sweeping up the shoujo sparkles from his coworkers’ various love-events. But he can’t deny that her expertise on poisons and their antidotes, as well as her extensive chemical knowledge, is of great use to their cause.

Anko sends another dango stick sailing at him, and he reflexively ducks again. The stick twangs as it sinks into the wall, completing the symbol of the Konoha swirling leaf Anko was building this entire time. Anko cheers, and Ōkei feels a sweatdrop dramatically roll down his head. Something written on the papers before him catches his eye, and he shakes off the exaggeration easily enough, determinedly searching for any clues to help solve their problems. He is more than willing to scavenge through thousands of grotesque medical examinations, if only it is for Konoha.  
\-----

“Orochimaru is, quite literally, a mad scientist,” Hisako sighs as she plops into the chair next to Shikaku. Shikaku only hums in response and continues leafing through the various reports strewn about the conference table. They wait in silence for their meeting’s last member, both Naras taking the time to finish reading their respective work.

Rie enters only minutes later, and her harsh figure cuts right through the relatively relaxed atmosphere of the room. The tension visibly wrinkles her face, and the way the woman straightens her shoulders against the weight of her responsibilities accentuates the authority she carries herself with. She sets the stack of papers she holds onto the table and bows appropriately to her companions.

“Commander, Nara-san, I am pleased to meet with you today.” she greets, gray eyes flashing with irritation specifically at Shikaku. Shikaku ignores the challenge in her eyes and returns a respectful nod as Hisako hurriedly stands to bow.

“Now that we’re all here,” Shikaku begins the meeting, skipping right through pleasantries, “Rie-sama, if you would.”

Rie sniffs at him, but begrudgingly reports, “The patient is stable, miraculously. We have her in a medically induced coma, but I can’t promise how long we can keep her alive. At the moment, we have 12 medical ninja on her case, each ninja administering hour-long treatment of Mystical Palm Technique. There isn’t a second where medical chakra isn’t flowing through that girl’s body. I worry for the well-being of my staff, Nara-sama. I hope you have found an alternative?”

“Something like that.” mumbles Shikaku. “Hisako-chan?”

“Well,” Hisako grimaces, faltering for a moment. “We found _something_ , but I can’t promise it will solve our problems. It’s still very...experimental, for lack of a better word.”

“Troublesome.” frowns Shikaku.”

“I don’t have all day, Nara-san.” Rie snaps.

“Apologies, Rie-sama,” Hisako amends. “My team and I, along with two specialists, have found evidence within Orochimaru’s medical files--”

Rie sucks in a sharp breath. The tension in the room holds, both Naras glancing Rie’s way to gauge her reaction, until the aged Chief of Staff releases a heavy breath. “The day Konoha uses Orochimaru’s research is a sad day indeed.” she laments.

“I understand your concern, Rie-sama, but we don’t have another choice.” Shikaku says quietly.

Rie closes her eyes, regret lining her features, before silently waving a hand for Hisako to go on. Hisako clears her throat awkwardly, and continues, “According to his speculations, Orochimaru believed that the soldier pill did not supply the user with chakra, nor accelerated growth of chakra in the body, but instead promoted an increase of production of physical energy. This is backed by multiple experiments he details in the same report, as well as quotations from Tsunade-sama herself.”

“I never thought of it like that,” admits Rie. “I cannot say that Orochimaru is right, but he is not wrong in his explanation of a soldier pill. Because chakra is formed strictly by combining physical energy and spiritual energy, than a soldier pill would either supply the user with previously stored chakra or promote growth of one or both of those energies. Since chakra cannot be held within an inanimate object unless contained by a seal, and Konoha does not have the resources to mass produce a pill that requires fuuinjutsu to operate it, then it would make sense that the pill works to stimulate the energies.” Rie pauses for a moment to deliver a sharp eye to Shikaku. “I would prefer to confirm our suspicions with an Akimichi before we continue.”

Shikaku shrugs. “The Hokage’s orders are to keep this investigation under the radar, Rie-sama.”

Rie’s expression tightens with displeasure, and she continues briskly with her previous train of thought. “As I was saying, it is most likely Orochimaru is correct. After a ninja uses a soldier pill, beyond the customary extreme exhaustion and week of recovery, there is an obvious dip in chakra control. On top of that, the pill’s aftereffects are more noticeable on the physical scale, rather than just the abstract exhaustion, depression, or any of the other expected repercussions of overusing one’s spiritual energy.”

“With how little we actually know about the energies behind chakra, Orochimaru’s troublesome theory is more than plausible, it’s the best research done so far on physical energy.” frowns Hisako.

“Let’s work on the assumption that a soldier pill only accelerates the reproduction rate of physical energy. If that’s true, then how can we do the same thing with the Mystical Palm Technique?” asks Shikaku.

Rie folds her fingers together in thought. “The Mystical Palm Technique uses the chakra of the caster to increase the physical energy of the patient. If the patient is only surviving because of the continuous influx of physical energy, then perhaps it is possible to adjust the formula for the soldier pill to not increase production of physical energy, but instead to create it.”

“Is that...really how the Mystical Palm Technique works?” questions Hisako, surprised at such a simple answer.

“It’s a gross over-simplification, but yes.”

“But that’s not our only problem,” says Shikaku. “We have to find not only a way for her to survive, but a way for her to _live_. Supplying her with physical energy is only a single step towards our solution. Our main goal is to grant her a way to create her own chakra, so that she can walk, talk, and live like a normal person. We have to think long-term here. The worst-case scenario is that she can’t return to her home, and if that’s true, she’ll have to adapt to Konoha. Without chakra, she’ll die, henceforth we need to get her body to make chakra.”

Rie sighs. “It’s just not that simple, Nara-sama.”

Hisako absentmindedly traces her thin left eyebrows, fingers dancing across the two-inch slash scarring it, and then runs a hand across her hair, loosening some strands of hair from her telltale Nara ponytail. “Yare yare daze, this damned case is just one hell of a drag.”

Shikaku snorts in agreement with his cousin’s words.

“Stay focused,” Rie scolds. “You youngsters have it easy. In my time at the hospital, I dealt with the last half of the Second Shinobi World War, as well as the entirety of the Third Shinobi World War. The work you do nowadays is nothing compared to the strain of wartime.” The wrinkles detailing her old age do nothing to hide the fierceness of her face. Though no scars mark her skin like many shinobi, her long gray hair is done up in a practical bun, and her straight posture betrays no hint of her true age. 

Shikaku’s eyes narrow at her disrespectful words, Hisako’s casual act dropping immediately. “We fought in that War, Rie-sama.” he reminds her with cold intensity.

“And we kept you alive through it, Commander.” she bites out through gritted teeth. A moment of silence passes through the group, and the Chief of Staff takes a deep breath. “The hospital is underfunded and understaffed, yet you order 12 of my 30 medical nin to attend to an unknown non-combatant, with no explanation for their worth. Twelve out of the only thirty studied nurses and doctors that can use the Mystical Palm Technique. Lives are lost every _minute_ they spend attending your patient, and it may as well all be for _nothing_ , because we can’t even guarantee they’ll live. You shinobi have _never_ valued your medical ninja, and--”

“ _Excuse me_ , but who the hell is out there every day, fighting off bandits and thieves, for your safety?” objects Hisako angrily. “We risk our lives _every day_ \--”

Shikaku lifts a hand, and Hisako falls silent. “I believe your concerns would be better heard by the Hokage himself.” he offers. “I do not have the authority to help you, Rie-sama.”

Rie’s nostrils flare with irritation. “I spoke with the Hokage this morning, Commander. He told me the same thing he always has, that I am more than capable of handling the hospital’s needs, and he trusts in me to do so. He’s told me the same thing ever since Tsunade abandoned her position.”

Shikaku sighs. “The faster we solve this case, Rie-sama, the faster you can get your people back.”

Rie stands with a scoff, and collects her papers stiffly. “I understand, Commander. Thank you for your time. I will retrieve Tsunade’s research on the Mystical Palm Technique and have copies of the relevant notations on your desks by tomorrow. Mitarashi-san is currently the only shinobi under your command with the necessary medical and chemical expertise, Nara-sama. I would suggest making good use of her.” With that last suggestion, the Chief of Staff sweeps out of the room, her doctor coat flaring behind her as she slams the door behind her.

“Tch, the nerve of that woman!” rants Hisako.

“Troublesome,” mutters Shikaku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be all in shikaku’s pov, and i think i did but also didnt. I sorry. And Rie-sama wasn’t supposed to bring up the hospital’s problems, but I mean, come on. Can you blame her? Damn.


	13. Did We Just Kill A Little Girl?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Progress comes from unlikely places. Time passes, and our folks in Administration brew something up in hopes to give a little girl her life back again.

Yoshino hands over three stuffed manila folders to Hisako with a playful grin. “Hope you enjoy reading late at night, Hisako-chan, because that’s what you’ll be doing for the next few nights, hun!”

“Shit, not more of that crap,” moans Hisako, dropping her head onto the table with a soft thump. “You know how much of a drag it is to read that all the damn time?”

Yoshino nods her head sagely, moving behind her cousin by marriage to undo the R&D employee’s high ponytail. “Of course I do, sweetheart. I worked in Cryptology, remember? You brought me in for my expertise in handling sensitive paperwork.”

“How do you handle it, Yoshino-chan?” whines Hisako.

Yoshino gently combs her fingers through the other woman’s hair. “I’ll teach you a little trick, dear.” With experienced fingers, Yoshino starts massaging Hisako’s head, and Hisako hums in delight. 

“You have to make sure you understand everything you’re reading. There’s a lot of jargon that you have to sift through in official papers like these, so it’s best that you remind yourself what it is you are looking for, and what it is you already found. Tell me, Hisako-chan, what are you looking for?”

“Um,” Hisako stutters. “Wow, that’s the spot, yeah… Uh, right. Well, we’re trying to find a way to create physical and spiritual chakra in a body without chakra coils.”

Yoshino works her hands down through Hisako’s dark tresses, the woman sighing in pleasure, before Yoshino brings her magic touch to Hisako’s neck and shoulders. “Good. Now, tell me what you have deduced so far.”

“We found, oh wow Yoshino, right there baby,” Hisako groans. Yoshino giggles at her friend’s antics. Hisako cleares her throat and says, “We found that soldier pills accelerate the growth of physical energy. The Mystical Palm Technique uses spiritual energy to accelerate the growth of physical energy, meaning spiritual energy can most likely be transformed into physical energy.” Hisako blinks away the sleepiness her friend’s massage gave her, and quietly repeats, “Spiritual energy transforms into physical energy, meaning… meaning physical energy can transform into spiritual energy! So all we have to do is find someway to give her physical energy, and find a way to transform physical energy into spiritual energy, and we’re done! Prescribe her a daily dosage, and badabing, badaboom, case closed!”

Elated, Hisako jumps from her chair and swings Yoshino up in a tight hug. “Yoshino-love, you’re a genius!” Yoshino only chuckles and affectionately pinches her friend’s cheek. Hisako dramatically falls to one knee and cups Yoshino’s hands, bending forward to kiss the fingers of the Nara head’s matron. “Yoshino-love, through thick and thin, you have been the only one to stand by my side, and selflessly support me. I have always depended on you, and I want you to depend on me, too. Would you be so kind as to make me your forever grateful and loving wife?”

Yoshino rolls her eyes and playfully slaps Hisako’s head. “You dork, stop it!” she laughs. Hisako only grins in reply, teasingly wiggling her eyebrows.  
\-----

“I’ve found it!” exclaims Anko as she rushes into the room.

Everyone looks up at her disheveled figure. Two weeks into the case, and they all look like they’ve spent a month wandering Kaze no Kuni’s desserts. The only active shinobi in their midsts clearly hasn’t fared any better, yet today she practically glows with triumph.

Anko strides into the room and slaps a corked bottle onto Hisako’s desk. “There it is. It basically works like epinephrine does for civilians, but instead on a shinobi’s reserves. It basically accumulates all the energy caused by the body’s reactions into one big clump of physical energy. You have no idea how hard it was to separate this from all the crap inside that pill.”

“Great job. I’ll run this by the others. We’ll have that girl up and running in no time!” grins Hisako.  
\-----

Shikaku leans back against his home’s wooden walls with a satisfied sigh, tipping back his cup of sake for a sip. Inoichi and Chouza copy him, Chouza knocking back half of his cup and Inoichi smiling as the burn of the alcohol wore off. For a while, all three men simply enjoy the comfort that comes from sharing a drink together. The silence stretches pleasantly, the stars twinkling their hellos and the dark night clouds fogging by every so often.

“It’s been too long since we last did this,” comments Chouza, already reaching to refill his cup.

“Mm,” agrees Shikaku, handing over his own cup without even asking. Chouza obligingly fills it.

“We need to do this more often,” concludes Inoichi, taking the bottle of sake and serving himself once Chouza is finished. 

They fall quiet once again.

“Ne, Chouza,” Shikaku begins. “Can I ask you something about soldier pills?”

Chouza glances sideways at Shikaku and shrugs. “Sure.”

“How does the soldier pill transform its physical energy into spiritual energy to make chakra for the user?”

Chouza stares wide-eyed at Shikaku for a moment before chuckling, “That’s an odd question, eh Shikaku?”  
Shikaku shrugs with one shoulder, and Inoichi eyes his teammates wearily.

Chouza thinks quietly for a moment. “Most of what I’m about to say is theoretical and edited to keep my clan’s secrets, so take it with a grain of salt.” The man drains his cup and smacks his lips heartily.

“To make this as simple as I can possibly get it, think of chakra only as the product of physical energy and spiritual energy. You take these two energies, you combine them, and you have chakra. Soldier pills do not contain spiritual energy. Through use of the Shintai Element--”

“Shintai Element?” Shikaku interrupts.

“It’s what we call the chemical that instigates the rapid reproduction of physical energy.” Chouza dismisses. “Through use of the Shintai Element and other selected nutrients, the soldier pill provides the body with enough energy to survive the next 60 or so hours with no food, water, or rest, so long as you don’t do anything too strenuous. It puts a great strain on the body, though, and causes nearly a complete shutdown right after those 60 hours.”

“How do you make the Shintai Element?” Shikaku blurts, eager to use this breakthrough and hasten the conclusion of his case.

“I can’t tell you that.” Chouza says flatly.

Shikaku tellingly says nothing, staring into his cup before downing it. “Troublesome,” he mutters, pouring himself another glass. “We found a foreigner two weeks ago, and we’ve determined them to be from another dimension.” he states bluntly.

Chouza spits out his sake. Inoichi sighs out through his nose and covers his face with his hands. “You suck at delivering shocking news, Shikaku.” the Yamanaka Head groans. Shikaku shrugs heartlessly and barrels on.

“To make a long story short, I was brought in after Inoichi took a stroll through the girl’s head and found clear evidence of said girl being alien. She doesn’t have any chakra, but our world does. In fact, everything that is alive in our world has chakra. But she doesn’t have chakra, therefore, she is dying. My job is to figure out how to give her chakra, you know, keep her alive long enough for T&I to do their job.”

Chouza stares wide-eyed at Shikaku, clearly shocked speechless, but Inoichi’s jaw audibly clicks shut with frustration. “She doesn’t even speak our language,” he manages through gritted teeth. “We should teach her how to speak, help her form connections within the Village. If we can heal her, provide her with a home, she’ll probably give up everything willingly, and then we wouldn’t have to torture a _little girl_ \--”

“None of that will matter if she isn’t _alive_.” interrupts Shikaku sharply. 

Chouza glances carefully between his two teammates. “I’m assuming I’ve just been recruited for your case?” Shikaku nods, eyes still steady on Inoichi. “Well,” starts the Akimichi Head. “I guess I can share some clan secrets, so long as I can be assured they will only be used to medically assist the subject, and will not be applied to any other mission without my knowledge and approval?”

Shikaku grunts, “I’ll get you the papers tomorrow. In the meantime, what else can you tell me about the artificial creation of chakra?”

Chouza opens his mouth to continue his explanation, when Inoichi stands up, takes the sake bottle, and walks into Shikaku’s home. Shikaku continues looking at Chouza, waiting for his teammate to proceed, but Chouza stares at the sliding door Inoichi just closed.

“What’s up with him?” Chouza asks.

Shikaku shrugs lazily. “He was kicked off the case. The Hokage at first believed he was manipulated by some super secret jutsu the girl had stored somewhere, and to be completely honest, I don’t think Inoichi can objectively work this case. The girl’s about Ino’s age.”

“Ah,” Chōza sighs.  
\-----

“Great job at reverse engineering the Shintai Element, Anko-san! It was quite ingenious of you.” exclaims Chouza upon seeing the vial of purple liquid. “I’m assuming it's purple because of the extraction agent?”

Anko grins with pride. “Yeah. What color is it usually?”

“Blue,” says Chouza, tilting the glass to the side and watching the magenta liquid on the bottom sluggishly crawl along the tube. “Have you checked it’s percentage?”

“It’s 97.83% pure, Chouza-kun.” smiles Hisako. 

Chouza stares at Anko. “My clan has only ever achieved 83% at most.” The large man smiles a little. “Is there anyway I could convince you to share your process with us?”

Anko laughs gamely. “I’ll do it but I won’t do it cheap, old man!  
\-----

Rei tests the needle once before swiftly injecting the Shintai Element into the subject. The room collectively holds its breath, the Hyuuga medic activating his Byakugan to monitor any reactions the patient might have to the Shintai Element. Shikaku leans against the wall closest to the door, staring at the ashen-faced girl, silently admitting to himself that it’s a relief to finally see some color coming back into those pale cheeks. Hisako bites her thumb from nerves, pleased that already the Shintai Element is having positive effects in the patient, but only allowing herself to be cautiously optimistic.

The subject’s breathing eases, and upon passing a chakra-glowing hand over the young girl, Rei detaches the breathing support from the patient. The Hyuuga medic closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, exhaustion lines creeping across his forehead, but he doesn’t cancel his Byakugan. The girl’s right hand clenches, loosens, then grips the hospital bed sheets. The girl’s eyes flutter briefly before opening, squinting at the harsh hospital lights.

Hisako stutters out a gasping laugh, and Shikaku quickly flicks the lights off. Rei bends over the girl and starts checking vitals, asking, “Can you hear me, young one?”

The patient groans, and Shikaku can’t help grinning. Hisako turns to her cousin with a winning smile, winking cheekily at him before turning back to the patient. As the Hyuuga walks over to help the Head of Staff at the hospital treat the awakening subject, Shikaku’s eyes linger in a shadowed corner of the room by the window. From it materializes Shiranui Genma, who gazes at the hospital bed with soft eyes.

Shikaku tells himself that this was a job well done, and turns around to open the door and leave. He’ll come back later, when the girl’s more stable. He should probably start thinking about someone who can teach her their language--

An alarm from the heart monitor lights up and starts blaring. Shikaku whirls around and stares as the girl jolts suddenly and gasps. Her skin starts glowing a bright blue. She hisses a word no one understands and yelps as her body flails uncontrollably. Sweat runs down her face, and her eyes roll up. Genma and the Hyuuga medic hold the girl down as she starts thrashing, screeching in what definitely sounds like pain, and Rei hurriedly starts applying medical ninjutsu to any part of the girl’s body the Head of Staff can reach.

“What’s wrong?” exclaims Hisako.

Rei doesn’t respond, too focused on keeping the patient alive. Shikaku leans his head out of the window to shout for help as the Hyuuga medic manages to grit out, “The physical energy--it’s too much for her. It’s causing everything to speed up, her body can’t handle it, it’s collapsing under the strain.”

Hisako curses and runs a hand worriedly through her hair. Shikaku backs up to allow space for three medics to rush in the room. They start wheeling the girl out of the room, Rei shouting orders, steadily keeping a glowing hand on the patient’s heart. Soon, the room is empty, still dark from when Shikaku shut the lights off. Hisako glances at her cousin out of the corner of her eyes, and whispers, “Did we just kill a little girl?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hisako's idea of transforming spiritual energy into physical energy wouldn't work because, fundamentally, both energies are different. According to Narutolore, they're both entirely separate things that only when combined form chakra. Yes, I know chakra is usually blue when made visible, but Mystical Palm is green even though it's supposed to be visible chakra, along with other chakra constructs being of different colour. I think intent/user/element of jutsu ends up being factors into determining the colour of the chakra, since things don't seem to have a stable go-to in Kishimoto's design. Think of me similar to Game Theory; taking the smallest things waaaaay too literally, haha.
> 
> and if anyone wants to toss ideas back and forth on chakra theory, you're more then welcome to message me. i could really use the back-and-forth, this fic is exhausting in trying to make everything scientific enough to realistically be plausible. also im on ffnet under lavacana, that has a private pming system right? so that we don't spoil?
> 
> Anywho, thanks all for reading!


	14. Where is Timothy?

_Rubles? Where is Timmy?_

She’s swimming through a swamp of feelings. The current carries her swiftly, dragging at her favorite pajama shirt. She flips around, craning her neck to find the surface, but all she can see are flashes of neon colors. They leave red and blue imprints in her vision, and as she blinks them away, a giant stuffed monkey suddenly looms in front of her. She gasps at the thing, losing all her air and scared shitless since the damned thing is somehow depicted in photo negative colors. She clamps her mouth shut as water clogs her throat and lungs, and twists away from the horrific image of her childhood toy.

She’s met with resistance. No matter how hard she tries to doggy paddle away, the current keeps tugging her forward. A bicycle swings past, and her attempt to dodge it has her shooting forward at incredible speeds. Objects zoom past, flitting in and out of her peripheral vision too fast for her to see, their negative coloring adding a dystopian appeal to whatever underwater realm she’s found herself in. She floats aimlessly, head-over-heels, scrambling for purchase against anything that comes her way. Her lungs are starting to burn.

_Rubles_ , the voice echoes, the water distorting it. She whips her head around, mouth opening to call for help. _Where is Timmy_ , the voice asks, very clearly holding back tears.

Her heart aches at the pain in the voice. A familiar face flickers to her side, and she shouts as she reaches for it, bubbles trailing behind her. She manages to snatch a piece of cloth, and as the current yanks her away from a creepy Dora the Explorer plushie, she examines the Power Rangers-themed piece of pajama pants in her hands. 

Her eyes blow wide, and the current abruptly shifts to the side. She’s sent careening into a watery living room. She jolts at the sudden stop, staring as three people cuddle together on a couch, a TV playing cartoons in front of them. Specifically, Power Rangers. As she watches, the smallest of the three jumps up with excitement, copying the movements exactly. The little thing pumps a fist in the air triumphantly at scoring such perfect moves, and throws a carefree smile over their shoulder at the other two still on the couch. Before she can catch a good look at their face, she’s sent careening back through the watery depths filled with miscellaneous items.

_Rubles_ , the voice sobs. _Rubles, where is our brother? Where is Timmy?_

She flies past random objects in negative colours. The water swells with a wave, and she goes up along with it, her toes skimming across the top of a bunk bed. A body pillow slaps her across the face and she goes spinning. Dizzy and with lungs burning, she struggles to right herself and kick for the surface, desperation for air clouding all motion and thoughts. More neon flashes obscure her vision, and she chokes as a lollipop suddenly appears in her mouth. She crunches on it out of reflex in an attempt to stop it from going down her throat. Artificial cherry flavor coats her tongue.

_Why isn’t Timmy here_ , the voice cries. _I want him to come back! Why won’t you talk to me about it? I’m scared!_

Her body jolts in agony as her back slams into a bedroom dresser. Her eyelids flutter, and for a moment she thinks she’s going to fall unconscious, but then the current lightly floats her above the messy bedroom scene. From her eagle-eye perspective, she sees three people roughhousing on the floor, their relationship as close siblings obvious for everyone to see. At one point the tallest of the group gathers the shorter two into a big hug, and all three settle comfortably on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The makeshift dogpile whispers quietly to itself, the three sharing secrets that not even the night itself can hear.

_Please_ , wails the voice. _I just want to know! Ma is crying herself sick, Rubles, and you’re not even talking to me anymore. I’m so scared. I just want Tim back! Why hasn’t he come home?_

The current sweeps her up in a flurry, her night shirt slapping at her face. Her tears bubble up in the water and float around her, both from the pain she’s experiencing at hearing the voice and from her lack of oxygen. She claws wildly at the current, trying to wrench herself free, trying to wrestle her way to an air pocket, but it’s no use. Her body is too weak from suffocating to resist the pull.

Her lungs cave in on themselves, and she spits out a giant glob of blood. Her throat burns, and black spots dance across the edges of her vision. The swirling force of the current slows some, and the objects constantly zooming past her slow to a stop. Soon, she’s drifting aimlessly in the water, nothing recognizable in sight. It’s dark, cold, and lonely, and she’s too confused by the mess left behind her to appreciate the quiet. 

Something brushes against the skin of her right arm, and she screams silently as pain flares bright and hot. She struggles without any real enemies, kicking and thrashing against restraints that don’t exist. The fire burns purple across her body, eating away at her flesh. She shrieks and scratches at the liquid acid traveling up her skin, but it just sticks to her hand like glue. She curls up in a ball as the water turns maroon with her blood and the purple fire. She tries to groan and ends up vomiting. She blinks blearily at the mess floating in front of her face, and starts as her heart drifts by, still pumping, veins connecting down her throat and to her chest cavity.

_Where is Timothy_ , the voice demands, heavy with unshed tears.

She gasps, sucking in all the water around her. She shrieks as gravity suddenly reclaims her, and she falls face first onto the floor. The impact caves in her forehead. She chokes against the rushing gore of blood and brain matter, fingers shakily grasping at liquid and trying to stuff it back into her head. Her mouth hangs limply, unable to close due to pain, and she wheezes into the concrete. Somehow, she pulls herself to her feet. Wind whips through her hair, curling her fading green tips and tangling her brown locks. A car zooms behind her, and the noise sends her stumbling forward to the railing. She looks down and flinches dizzily at the expanse of river beneath the bridge. She’s hanging onto the railing for dear life, grateful that she isn’t on the other side.

Something black flickers to her left, and she weakly turns her head to the side. Standing before her is a young man that looks about twenty. He stares solemnly out at the water, his dark hair camouflaging with the dark of night. Moonlight highlights his strange features, his almond eyes and strong nose casting a sharp profile. He glances at her from the corner of his eyes, and his haunted gaze pierces her to the core. His knuckles are white from his tight grip, the only thing keeping him on the bridge seeing as he’s hanging from the railings on the other side.

“Timothy is dead,” he whispers, and lets go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's like she had a really, really bad trip dude. damn.


	15. Exactly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is chakra? Clearly not science, that's for sure. Unfortunately, that's the only way we know how to understand something. So, sciencing chakra it is!

“What do we do now?” asks Anko, still infuriatingly jubilant despite this latest failure. Ōkei glares at her from his spot at the table next to Chouza, a vein popping from the researcher’s forehead in frustration. His lip curls as the T&I agent swings her chair from side to side, annoying smirk still plastered on her face. 

Yoshino leafs through the papers on Hisako’s desk once again, briefly reviewing everything her husband and his impromptu team has been researching the last few weeks. Yui looks up from where her head has been tucked in the crook between Tessen’s neck and shoulder, regret watering her eyes. “I’m scared to even continue working on this. That poor girl almost _died_. We weren’t trained for this! We’re supposed to be working with the foreigner’s technology, not on the foreigner herself!”

Tessen gently soothes her back into his embrace, planting a loving kiss on her crown. “Don’t worry sweetie, it will be alright. I’m here for you.”

Yui turns shining eyes on her boyfriend. “Really?”

Tessen smiles lovingly. “Always.

Yui sighs contentedly and settles into Tessen’s arms. Love sparkles and roses blossom around them as a pink backdrop settles behind them. Anko sweatdrops and Ōkei facepalms with a groan.

Chouza turns to look at Yoshino with a contemplative expression. “Yoshino-san, can you read to me exactly how much of the Shintai Element was injected into the girl?”

Yoshino pouts and pinches Chouza’s cheeks. “None of that formal stuff, Chouza. I’ve known you for years!” Chouza smiles sheepishly, rubbing at the spot his friend’s wife pinched. Yoshino winks at him, then reads off the information he requested. “It seems like Rei-sama administered 1 milliliter of the Shintai Element.” Yoshino blinked at the information, and then frowned. “I’m no medic, but those needles are pretty big. I remember using them to scare Shikamaru into eating whenever he got picky.”

Chouza strokes his chin. “Maybe that’s the problem. The Shintai Element is an entirely new chemical to this girl’s body. On top of that, she doesn’t have any coils for it to flow safely through her body. I think we should start with 0.3 milliliters and work our way up from there, while carefully monitoring the flowpath of the Shintai Element to make sure it doesn’t damage any of her organs.”

Yoshino nods in agreement and quickly jots it all down on a notepad. “I’ll take this up to Rei-sama right now. Do you think you can grab Shikaku and Hisako on the way?”

Chouza stands along with her and opens the door. “They should all be leaving the Hokage’s office right about now, their report shouldn’t have lasted too long. Meet you at the hospital?”

“Yes.” Yoshino steps out of the workroom, only to stiffen and duck out of instinct. Chouza’s arm blows up to twice its usual size in response, and both whirl around to find who sent that kunai spinning their way.

The sight that greets them is one of hilarious immaturity: Anko launching an endless barrage of kunai at the new couple while hissing loud enough to scare away lesser men, Tessen furiously blocking said kunai and shouting retorts at Anko, Yui cowering and wailing behind her boyfriend’s back, and Ōkei to the side of it all, palms pressed together and praying for it all to just end.

Chouza and Yoshino glance at each other, watching if either of them is willing to step in between and stop it, both acknowledging neither is willing to do so, and then shrugging it off and continuing with their respective assignments.  
\-----

“You have a good point in regards to the dosage, Akimichi-sama, but the problem of spiritual energy still stands. To be alive, one needs chakra, and to have chakra, one needs physical and spiritual energy. Even if we provide the patient with physical energy, we have no means of giving her spiritual energy.” concludes Rei.

“But at least it’s a step closer to solving our problem,” counters Chouza, the both of them striding down the hospital hallway.

Rei’s heels clack sharply against the tiled floor as they approach the foreigner’s hospital room. “It’s too dangerous to play around with this girl’s life, Akimichi-sama. The Hokage reinforced how necessary it is that our patient stays _alive_. We can’t just inject another dose, no matter how small, of physical energy into her without having spiritual energy. She needs a perfect balance to substitute our live-support--” 

“You’re just assuming that!” Chouza interrupts. “If we get some into her that may free up a few of your medics--”

“Don’t you dare presume to know how to do _my_ job, Chouza!” The Head of Hospital Staff rounded upon the large man, her tall yet thin stature cutting a fierce figure against the juxtaposition of his mountainous frame. “One would think an Akimichi should understand the delicate balance between physical and spiritual energy! Remove one, and you lose the other. Too much of one, and the other ceases to matter. It’s only thanks to my medics that girl still survives! The continuous run-off of spiritual energy combines with the physical energy we stimulate to heal injuries--” Rei cuts herself off with a sharp gasp.

Chouza backs up a step. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Of course!” The wizened woman yanks out a notepad and starts scribbling on it furiously as she pushes past Chouza and back down the hallway. The large man fumbles after her, catching “Tsunade-sama’s studies.” and “it’s the discharge, that’s what’s doing it!” muttered under the Head of Staff’s breath. She whirls around suddenly and slaps a paper onto Chouza’s chest. “Chouza-sama, please give this to Shikaku. I have some research to do.” With that, the lady twirls around once more, her doctor’s coat flapping behind her as she rushes down the hallway and around the corner.

Chouza is left blinking stupidly in her wake.  
\-----

“I came as soon as I got the message,” says Shikaku when he arrives. Hisako and Rei are already bent over documents, papers strewn across their side of the long table. Shikaku strides over and forces his way between them.

“What’s the plan?” he asks.

“It’s difficult, but I think we can pull it off.” murmurs Hisako, loosening her Nara ponytail and running a hand through her short black hair.

“I realized it when I argued with Chouza earlier today, about the benefits of experimenting with the dosage of Shintai Element.” begins Rei. “I am in agreement with his theory, but I countered that it would only be possible if we had a source of spiritual energy to provide for the patient. You see, one cannot survive without chakra, and chakra has two components, specifically physical energy and spiritual energy. It is true that iryo-ninjutsu uses the chakra of the caster to raise the physical energy of the recipient, but it is much more complex than that.” She hands Shikaku a collection of stapled documents, all signed by Senju Tsunade.

“Back when Tsunade-sama and I attended medical training--”

“You went to training with THE Slug Princess?” interrupts Hisako in astonishment.

Rei shoots a dirty look at the female Nara, who shuts her mouth but doesn’t stop staring at the Hospital Head with wide eyes. The stern-faced lady begins again, “When Tsunade-sama and I attended training, iryo-ninjutsu was still rather new, all things considered. At the time, we only had the Shodaime’s jutsu to base our medical jutsu off of. Most medical training was still civilian at the time. Tsunade and I hatched the bare bones of what is now the standard medical iryo-ninjutsu, but I… I did not have the strength to continue being a kunoichi. I quit, and with it relinquished my right to wield chakra.”

“You couldn’t continue studying iryo-ninjutsu with Tsunade-sama because you were now a civilian, and civilians can’t use chakra.” says Hisako.

“Yes.” agreed Rei. “Most civilians only have enough chakra to live. It is only when one goes through training that one can expand their reserves. Because I left the Corps, I was forbidden from using chakra under the, correct I must say, assumption that I was not being taught how to properly wield it. It was only after I achieved my status as the Head of Staff that I was granted my ability to use jutsu again, and even then it was strictly for the purpose of medical jutsu only, which at the time Tsunade-sama had just completed.”

Hisako opens her mouth to ask a question, but Rei swiftly holds up a hand. “None of that matters at the moment. Let us get to the crux of the situation. I believe this research can be benefici--”

“One of your earlier exercises, before medical jutsu was created, was direct manipulation of spiritual energy.” interrupts Shikaku, who read through the documents as Rei explained herself.

“Yes.” clarifies Rei. “Creating a new jutsu isn’t easy, especially in regards to a jutsu as delicate as iryo-ninjutsu. There are many complex facets to the jutsu itself, all dependent on the type of injury of the patient. Iryo-ninjutsu also has a strong bleed-off of spiritual energy. Perhaps that, combined with the physical energy my medics are continuously giving her, is what is keeping this girl alive.”

“So the plan is to inject her with the Shintai Element and then apply the exercise of spiritual energy?” asks Shikaku.

“Yes.”

“Hold on a moment,” says Hisako. “We need to be thorough this time. We can’t take another chance. The Hokage already chewed us out today, we can’t afford to dodge the kunai before it’s thrown. What specifically is this exercise, Rei-sama? And can’t we just turn her physical energy into spiritual energy, like you do with the Mystical Palm technique?”

Rei folds her hands together and closes her eyes in thought. “It is… difficult to explain. The Mystical Palm technique does not strictly change the natures of the Elements, it only manipulates them. It would take years for that girl to master the jutsu at such complexity, and she would have to have physical energy and spiritual energy of her own.”

“Good thing we didn’t go with that idea,” Hisako jokes weakly. Rei ignores the other woman’s comment and continues with her explanation.

“The technique I am referring to is no longer necessary in the training of medical jutsu, so it has been many years since this jutsu was used. At its core, it is manipulation of the caster’s spiritual energy. Chakra is confusing, and in our youth, Tsunade-sama and I believed that if we exercised our strength of will and determination to heal the patient, we would literally be able to heal them.”

“You tried to heal without chakra, using only spiritual energy, am I correct?” inquires Shikaku as he sets down the research documents done by Senju Tsunade.

“Yes.” Rei sighs. “We were children, Shikaku-sama, and this was long before the Sannin ever began their research into chakra and jutsu. It was a complete failure, and we nearly died. It was only the Shodaime’s quick-thinking that kept us from dying that day. We were forbidden from ever using that technique again, and I followed that order without complaint. Tsunade-sama, on the other hand, continued to explore the possibilities one could do with only physical and spiritual energy. At my graduation, she presented a refined version of what we attempted. We continued our research in secret, but…” Rei cleared her throat. “As I said earlier, I retired, and she moved on to better things.

“But I digress. I believe I can use this technique for our patient. Spiritual energy is much more potent than physical energy when using this jutsu. It’s possible that only one application of this jutsu will be enough to last for 24 hours.”

Hisako smiles. “Which means we can inject the Shintai Element, use that jutsu, and then not have to worry about it for the next 24 hours. She’ll finally have chakra, and will be able to function with relatively little handicaps.”

“Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise we'll get to cooler stuff soon. some Extras have found their way into the story, as a way to keep things spicy and stuff. but i mean guys, as much as I want to get to the cool stuff (like oh my god i really, really do) i still have to get through this stuff. The way one assimilates into an entirely new culture is extremely important in determining your future within that culture. So, ergo, there be lotsa exposition.
> 
> EDIT 04/14/2017: A huge thank you to Dawn_Goes_Down_To_Day for pointing out a huge problem in this chapter! It's tough keeping track of all the stuff necessary to keep this fic realistic, and I rely on readers to help catch and alert me to any kinds of discrepancies like that. Thank you very much for bringing it to my attention, and to the rest of you, if ever you encounter a problem do let me know ASAP! Thank you!


	16. Senpai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aishi can tell when a ninja is on the verge of making a bad decision. As the owner of the The Blue Paw, it's her job as a bartender catering to mainly a shinobi populace to recognize the signs when one drink is one drink too many. So when she sees one of her regulars walk in for the third night in a row, she decides its time for an intervention. Luckily, Ibiki seems to have the situation handled. So long as they don't cause trouble in her bar, Aishi will let Inoichi and Ibiki hash it out. But just in case, she slips on her battle prosthetic. Can't have anything catching her off guard, now can she?

Inoichi plops himself down on a bar stool, sighing with the weight of the knowledge he has. This is the third time in one week he’s made his way to the local shinobi bar he tends to frequent with his team. He knows his wife disapproves of his sudden drinking habit, but he can’t help it. What he learned that day, in the mind of that little girl…

How can he tell his wife, his sweet Noriko that he, that _they_ , don’t exist?

Inoichi orders a bottle of sake, quietly slipping into a by-now familiar state of mild panic. Ever since he resurfaced from the mind of the foreigner, his thoughts keep revolving around the notion that _he is not real_. He can’t even begin to comprehend it. How does that even work? How was the girl able to have access to TV shows and manga books detailing his life? Yet again, it isn’t his life being depicted on screen. It’s Uzumaki Naruto’s.

Inoichi’s face pinches at that thought, and he throws back a cup of sake. Apparently Konoha wouldn’t even exist without the creation of Uzumaki Naruto. Would he be alive if Uzumaki Naruto didn’t exist? All his memories, all those moments spent with his family and friends, do they matter?

Inoichi gulps down another cup of sake. Of course they do. Ino means everything to him, and he loves Noriko with everything he has. His clan, his family, he loves them all. That has to be real, right? These feelings, they can’t be something fabricated, a lie woven for the pleasure of an invisible audience, right?

Right?

Inoichi stares listlessly at the alcohol in his cup. It’s his doubt that is making him act like this. If he could only know for certain whether or not he was real, then he would be able to plan his next move. At the current moment, he is just incapable of finding out the answer to his question. That’s why he’s moping around in bars and drinking like it’s his first year in T&I again. It’s the uncertainty, the instability of his perception of reality, that’s making him so emotional. Without a proper outlet to de-stress, he’s resorted to other methods in an attempt to distract himself from the problem. 

If only there was a way to find out the truth, if only he could once and for all declare that this world, _his world_ , is reality--

“So this is where you hang out nowadays, eh Inoichi?”

Inoichi startles at Ibiki’s voice, and then sighs deeply. “Damn it.”

Ibiki settles himself on the stool beside Inoichi with a taunting smirk. “Don’t appreciate my magnificence anymore, Senpai?”

“I thought we weren’t speaking to each other at the moment.” replies Inoichi stiffly, downing another cup. He is definitely feeling the affects of the alcohol now. Normally, he stops at this point, but he is determined to make himself stop thinking. He can’t handle this, this probably-not-real dilemma that he’s unwittingly found himself in.

Ibiki motions for the bartender to bring another cup. “Believe me, I still want to beat your ass for the humiliation you made me go through, in the face of the Hokage no less. I’m only here because Noriko’s making herself sick worrying over you.”

Inoichi bristles at the statement, clenching his cup and gritting his teeth. “How dare you! _You’re_ the one that humiliated _me_ in front of the Hokage! Y-You made me look like, like a fool! Like a-a delusional maniac! My reputation, my career, my clan’s _honor_ \--”

Ibiki rounds on Inoichi with a scowl. “I am your commanding officer, soldier! All information has to be run by _me_ first, before it’s sent to the higher ups! You undermined _my authority_ \--”

“I was your CO first, Ibiki!” Inoichi snarls. “I _taught_ you how to be the Head of T &I, and I’m the current head of the Yamanaka clan, the primary specialists for intelligence gathering in the _entire Village_. I have just as much authority as you, if not more. When I read her mind, I decided that the _only one_ capable of handling this kind of sensitive information was the Hokage. You don’t understand what this _means_ \--”

“I don’t _care_ , damn it!” Ibiki’s shout draws the attention of the entire bar.

Inoichi casts a glance around the room, at the deceptively-relaxed positions of all the shinobi, then looks back to his kouhai. Ibiki turns away from him, face flushed in anger, eyes swirling darkly. The bartender takes advantage of the quiet to walk up to them.

“Don’t be startin’ no shit in my bar, Ibiki,” the lady glares, voice as rough as ever. Her purple clan marks stretch as her mouth twists ferally. “You two have been good customers over these years, but I’ve gone through too much shit with this bar t’have y’all fuck it up now. Take the fight outside, brats, and don’t come to my bar startin’ shit again.”

“I apologise, Ashi-san,” says Inoichi. He knows that as both Clan Head of the Yamanaka and Ibiki’s last CO, it is his job to apologise on both their behalfs. Ibiki doesn’t seem too pleased about it, though. The scarred Head of Interrogation glares in Inoichi’s direction before making an agreeing grunt.

Ashi stares at the two of them for a long moment. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” the Inuzuka mutters, slapping down the cup Ibiki requested before walking off, prosthetic leg clipping against the wooden floor. Ibiki pours himself a cup of sake as the silence fades, tossing it back and savouring the burn. Inoichi doesn’t dare to take another sip. He knows he’s had one cup too many. If Ibiki isn’t going to control himself in this argument, then Inoichi has to set an example and do it for the both of them. He understands that if both of them were to fly off the handle, the consequences would be disastrous. 

“I don’t understand you, Inoichi-senpai,” grunts Ibiki, staring at his cup like it’s the reason behind all wars. “You’re barely in her head for ten minutes, yet you come out babbling about the deception of reality and mangas being real and only Kami knows what kind of other nonsense.”

Inoichi sighs again. “I really don’t know how to explain this to you, Ibiki. You would’ve had to be there to understand.”

“I _was_ there,” growls Ibiki.

“No, you weren’t,” snaps Inoichi. He takes a moment to reign in his anger, the alcohol in his system making it harder to control himself. “You weren’t in her head. You didn’t see.” Inoichi casts a glance around the room as he tries to think of a way to explain this. “You can’t fake memories, Ibiki. Not like that. We have sleeper agents and mind jutsu, certainly, but I’m hailed as the best in interrogation because I can see _through_ that. I’m not as great as my predecessors, I will admit that, but I’m the best Konoha has right now. I was there, I met with her projection, I saw her mindscape, and I went through her memories. That poor girl comes from a world entirely different than our own. 

“I saw my Ino, my daughter, on a _screen_ , Ibiki. We were _drawings_! How can I tell you that we’re nothing more than fiction? How can I explain to you that your life, your brother’s death, your career in T &I, every battle you’ve fought, even the _war_ , that it all means nothing? That we’re just a _bullshit, supporting cast_ to the jin--”

Ibiki snatches Inoichi by the collar of his jacket and yanks him up to his feet. With a snarl, Ibiki slaps some yen onto the counter and hauls Inoichi outside. Ibiki throws Inoichi to the floor, who is just drunk enough to allow it. The Yamanaka rolls back to his feet easily enough, but Ibiki’s already throwing the first punch.

Left, down, right, back, the two shinobi trade blows in a vicious dance. Frustration and adrenaline combine into a fiery force, one that burns hot but burns quickly. Inoichi blocks a punch that has his sandals leaving grooves in the dirt. Ibiki scuffs the ground as he launches into a spinning kick, just narrowly ducking Inoichi’s own roundhouse. Alcohol slows their movements, and camaraderie weakens their hits. It quickly deteriorates to nearly mindless swinging. 

Ibiki manages to slip his hand around Inoichi’s collar again and slams the man against the wall of the bar. Both shinobi pant heavily and scowl at each other, taking a moment to catch their breath. The night air is humid with waiting rain. Sweat trickles down Ibiki’s neck. Inoichi pants, breath muggy from alcohol. The two stare at each other for a long while before Ibiki steps back, pain contorting his face.

“You _fool_ ,” he whispers. “You would allow yourself to think like that?”

“ _Allow_?” snarls Inoichi. “What do you mean, _allow_? This is the truth, Ibiki!”

“So Ino isn’t alive?”

Ibiki’s questions catches Inoichi off guard. “What?”

“By your logic, that means the day your daughter was born never happened, or worse, didn’t even matter.”

Inoichi growls. “What the hell are you talking about, Ibiki?”

Ibiki steps forward again, staring Inoichi right in the eye. “What about the day you married Noriko, or when you fell in love with her? Was it just like any other day, just another _insignificant_ morning in your _insignificant life_?”

Inoichi slams Ibiki against the opposite wall. “There is _nothing_ insignificant about my family!”

“Then stop talking like it is!”

Inoichi’s eyes analyze every inch of Ibiki’s face in an attempt to understand what he is trying to tell Inoichi. Ibiki huffs and yanks Inoichi’s hands off him, sneering, “I don’t care if this girl came from Kumo or the fucking moon, I know what’s real. I know every drop of blood I’ve shed for my country was real, because I felt the pain that came with it. I know every dead comrade I cremated was real, because I watched as their families mourned. I know every sacrifice I’ve made, and all the suffering I’ve gone through, was _real_. Are you trying to tell me that every hardship we’ve overcome meant nothing?”

Ibiki yanks off his hitai-ate, revealing the scars marring his head for the rest of his life. “I refuse to believe that these scars mean nothing! I refuse to accept the idea that for all we’ve fought, we’ve been doing nothing more than fighting a hopeless battle! And I don’t give a damn if this girl really did come from a world where we’re nothing more than manga, because I know that right here, in our world, we _are_ real!”

Inoichi lets his gaze drop to the ground, expression coloured with shock. Ibiki lets out another harsh breath, pulling his hitai-ate on again, face raw with old grief. There is silence for a long moment as the two T&I shinobi gather themselves.

“I never thought of it like that,” admits Inoichi.

Ibiki snorts as he tugs his comrade back into the bar, desperate for a drink to take the edge off his old pain. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, senpai?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is still a Thing, but it's not as pressing as it was before. I'm aiming for a relatively predictable posting schedule now, once every Saturday or so. Here's to hoping!


	17. Anticlimactic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least nothing bad happens?

Rei nods at Hyuuga Tadashi, her faithful assistant in this case, and he begins the injection of the Shintai Element into the patient’s right arm. Rei starts up the iryo-ninjutsu exercise, golden light spilling from her fingers and seeping into the girl’s left arm. Tadashi quickly removes the needle and applies a bandage swiftly, his Byakugan trained on the patient. Rei stays for a full minute, circulating her own spiritual energy through the patient’s body. Once she is finished, she too backs away, and the two medics begin to check the patient’s vitals.

After ten minutes of no visible change, Shikaku sighs and sticks his hands into his pockets. Hisako decided not to be present for this one, so he’s the only Nara here. Rei glances in Shikaku’s direction, before addressing her Hyuuga medic. “Do you see anything irregular, Tadashi?”

“No, Rei-sama.” The Hyuuga replies. “Everything is working as it should be. The physical energy is circulating in tandem with the spiritual energy throughout the patient’s body.”

“The girl has chakra, then?” asks Shikaku.

“No, sir. The energies have to mix in order to make chakra.” Tadashi clarifies.

“I believe that is something the patient will have to learn to do for themselves.” says Rei.

“How long until she regains consciousness?” questions Shikaku. Tadashi busies himself with tidying up the room a little.

“A few days, most likely,” assumes Rei. “I will continue the 24-hour observation until we know for sure she can sustain herself.”

Shikaku sighs again. “This girl is so troublesome. Hisako-chan will be pleased to know that this time was so anticlimactic.”


	18. Breathing Through Water

She first notices the warmth in her body. It’s unfamiliar to her. 

At first, she thinks she must have too many sheets on her. It’s the dead of summer, they can’t afford air conditioning, and she never remembers to change her sheets between seasons. It’s too much of a hassle. It’s a lot easier to just shove her blankets to the side when it’s summer than to pack them away completely and have to hunt them down again come winter.

But then she realizes the heat is internal. It’s like someone shoved a heater into her belly and turned it to its highest setting. The heat washes over her in waves, traveling down to her toes and climbing all the way up to her forehead, making her sweat from the inside out. It’s uncomfortable, and she wonders when did she get sick enough to catch a fever. She can’t remember any coughing or sneezing right before she fell asleep. Come to think of it, she can’t even remember when she fell asleep, or where. That’s not normal. What the heck?

She tries to open her eyes, and her sudden inability to do so hits her like a speeding train. For a good fifteen seconds she panics, mentally hyperventilating because she can’t move her toes, she can’t open her eyes, she doesn’t even feel herself breathing holy shit oh my god I’m DYING--

_Oh, fuck me sideways. I’m having one of those shitty out-of-body experiences, aren’t I? Damn it!_

These things don’t happen to her often, but she hates them with a passion. That loss of control, that moment when you realize you’re helpless, that disconnection between yourself and your body is the worst feeling on the planet. She’s never figured out how to stop them early. The only thing that works is waiting them out.

So that’s what she does.

Time doesn’t work the same way when she’s like this. Sometimes it takes what feels like hours to finish a single thought, and other times it’s been barely a minute and she’s already worked through her multiplication tables until 12, recited four _Sounds of Music_ songs, and counted up to 47 jumping sheep. The heat her body seems to be generating fluctuates regularly, though, so that ends up becoming her marker, so to speak. She counts it fading and being replenished by an outside source five times before she manages to peek an eyelid open.

White light blinds her and she does her best imitation of a pig snorting in protest. 

Now that she managed to blink open an eye, however briefly, control over her body gradually returns to her. She wiggles her toes and twitches her fingers. Everything feels sore for some reason, and every time she moves the constant heat in her body rushes to that point. It’s disorienting, and her perception of the world spins until she groans. She’s dizzy, hot, and sore, three things that together mean she’s sick, dying, or experiencing a really bad high. She can’t remember smoking anything, so it’s gotta be the first two. In a half-hearted attempt at self-preservation, she decides to believe it’s the first.

Someone says something. She guesses it’s probably the person taking care of her. She takes a deep breath in preparation of opening her eyes again, and abruptly realizes she isn’t breathing air at all.

Her lungs protest as what feels like molasses crawls down her throat.

She coughs harshly, trying to expel the sticky liquid, but it’s somehow replaced all the air around her. She breathes in and it clogs her mouth; she breathes out and it clogs her nose. She tries to raise a hand to bat it away, but her body doesn’t respond well to her command. It’s like her hand is trying to travel through an incoming Jell-O tsunami just to get to her face. Her eyes flutter open, and she wheezes through another not-really-a-breath. Bright golden sunlight filters through her eyelashes, and finally she is able to see.

The ceiling and walls are white.

Panic races through her, and her body alights with adrenaline. It feels like electricity coursing through her. She jerks in bed, arms and legs spasming in an attempt to block any possible attacks and run the heck away from them. Fear wrestles her breath from her chest, and it squeezes its way out of her throat, leaving her chest feeling raw and tight with tension. She swallows hard, seizing at the sheets. Thick air mixes with lingering heat, warmth that she associates with the fires of the damned, hot coals on her feet and liquid earth pouring down her tongue, a scarred man with a swirling leaf insignia carved into his forehead smirking down at her as he slowly drags a kunai across the virgin flesh of her neck--

Green light flashes at the corners of her fuzzy vision. Peppermint mist soothes her imaginary burns. For the first time since she’s been awake, she takes a satisfying breath, filling her lungs to the brim with minty air before exhaling deeply. The addictive sensation washes through her body, alleviating all aches. She opens her eyes fully and stares up at two faces. One she barely recognizes, only able to feel a basic sort of familiarity but not remember its source. The other she doesn’t instinctively recall, though the pale eyes remind her of something she used to know.

The two men converse quietly as she recovers from her panic attack. The man with the sharp stick in his mouth nods before leaving her field of vision. The one without an iris stays, that same green light from before flowing from his hands. She manages to raise her head, and the man adjusts her pillow without needing her to ask. She tosses him a grateful curl of her lips, gaze sliding over the easily identifiable hospital uniform. Unwillingly, her eyes drift back to his.

If she’s totally honest with herself, they’re kind of creepy. Both of them are pale lavender and completely blank, appearing almost glassy against the light. She doesn't know if he’s blind, and she can’t tell if he’s staring directly at her or off to the right. His facial expression does not change, and for a little while, she just examines him. As she waits, the green light slowly dims until it is extinguished. That clogged feeling comes back again, like the air around her is too heavy, and she swallows thickly to try and clear her throat. The nurse turns to grab some water for her.

A part of her brain tells her that she’s doing the impossible. Feeling air rushing into her lungs while said lungs are blocked by liquid is incredibly discomforting. On the one hand, she’s grateful that she actually can still breathe. On the other, it’s uncomfortable and headache-inducing to try and rationalize it, and it leaves her feeling off-balance, like she has one foot hanging off a cliff and the other poised on the very edge.

She takes the cup and stares at the liquid for a moment, finally finding words to describe this strange sensation. It kind of feels like breathing through water.


	19. Remember Her Own Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See, she knows a lot of names, just not her own. And isn't that the most important name of all?

_I must be famous_ , she thinks to herself, watching as attendants and official-looking people with stern faces walk in and out of the room. _All I’ve done is wake up and already I’ve got dozens of people visiting me_. She smiles to herself. _Good_ , she thinks. _My family will come quickly for me_.

Once again, the tall man with scars on his face and a spiked ponytail walks up to her. He says some words which she doesn’t bother responding to. She can’t understand him, and she’s too tired to try anyways. She just blinks at him, and he lets out a frustrated sound before striding over to the other two, important-looking women. They whisper to each other, casting glances back to her every few seconds. She manages to wave at them and they still. Shrugging their weirdness off, she turns onto her other side, face-to-face with the stoic blind man and the bandana guy with the pointy stick between his lips. 

Over the two hours or so that these doctors and high-ranked officials have spent poking and prodding at her, she’s developed something like a kindred with the two. Well, more specifically with Stick Guy, who bothers to respond to her whenever she tries to communicate with him. Bright Eyes, on the other hand, kind of just stares at nothing and gives her Green Light when she starts wheezing. Still though, they’re the only two she’s bothered to interact with this entire time. It’s mainly because they don’t annoy her and babble endlessly in whatever language it is they’re all speaking. 

Bright Eyes isn’t too much fun, but she enjoys poking at him and seeing how far she can annoy him before he loses it. So far, she hasn’t gotten a single reaction, but that will just make the eventual explosion all the better. Stick Guy is awesome. She makes silly faces at him, like sticking her tongue out and crossing her eyes, and he responds in kind by puffing his cheeks and squishing his face to look like a fish. They have a great time just goofing off at each other.

Stick Guy winks at her, and she giggles. Yeah, Stick Guy is awesome.

The door opens again, and with it comes a _presence_. Her breath stutters and her body goes stiff. She recognizes this feeling. She’s felt it before, much more potent and frightening. It weighs heavily against her, pressing on her lungs until once again the water that is the air blocks her airways. She coughs, trying to expel the imaginary liquid, her skin goosebumping against the heavy aura that just walked into the room. Green Light flickers to life in front of her, Bright Eyes alert and hovering over her. Fear has her twisting in bed, anxious to see the one who threatens her life, wanting to find an escape. She manages to sit up enough, and standing just inside of the room is a short old man with a funny hat.

The old man makes eye contact.

She gasps and reels back, slamming her head against the wall. “No,” she shrieks. “God, no!” Her vision shifts, splitting into two. One shows the hospital room, white walls and ceiling, with Stick Guy and Bright Eyes and the old man by the door. The other shows a room, white walls and ceiling, with a scarred man ripping her family picture in two and the old man looming above her, tall and omnipotent, able to kill her whenever he pleases, that’s why he came to the room isn’t it fuck she’s going to die oh god she’s going to _die_ \--

“Oi!”

Stick Guy shakes her by the shoulders and her eyes snap to his. The green light flowing from Bright Eyes’ hands shadow Stick Guy’s face, but his concerned frown is discernible enough. Her gaze shoots back to the door, where the short old man in the funny hat hasn’t moved. He just stands there, watching her carefully, but making no attempt to move. Stick Guy says something again and she looks back to him. Tears abruptly spill from her eyes and she leans into him, breath stuttering out but finally passing through her lips. Her chest burns something fierce, but with Bright Eyes coaxing in oxygen with his super healing powers, and Stick Guy blocking the old man from her vision, she manages to quiet down.

Once she is calm again, Stick Guy shifts away enough to sit by her side, right arm loosely draped around her. Exhausted, she leans against him, her left side warmed by Stick Guy and her right side guarded by Bright Eyes. The old man still watches her, while the previous officials walk over to him and report. She blinks dazedly at the scene, not bothering to try and make sense of it.

All of a sudden Stick Guy nudges her, and she opens her eyes with some difficulty. Did she accidentally fall asleep? Oops. Stick Guy points to the old man with the funny hat. She tenses at noticing the old man has come closer to her bed, her hands fisting around the cloth of Stick Guy’s shirt. Bright Eyes shifts, probably preparing his Green Light again, but she determinedly decides she doesn’t need it. She puffs her chest out and tries to stare down the old man.

“What are you going to do, old fart? Try and intimidate me again? Get that scarred asshole to set me on fire or something? Piss off,” she sneers, conveying as much disrespect as possible in her voice.

While they might not have understood her, they clearly recognized her intent. The old man frowns at her tone, and Stick Guy admonishingly pinches her cheek. She ignores both, just continuing to stare at the old man like he is doing to her. 

A part of her realizes that while she may remember the funny hat from a bad experience, something about it is oddly homely, like something from her childhood.

The old man takes off his hat in a slow and controlled motion. She follows it closely, her gaze lingering on the picture in front. She doesn’t understand it, but again something about it is incredibly familiar. All of this is, to some extent that she still can’t understand. Now that she thinks about it, can she really remember anything?

The old man speaks before she can follow her train of thought. “Jinchuuriki?” he asks.

“What?” she questions. Is that her name? Or a curse word? How do they expect her to--

“Oh.” She blinks, and images flash through her mind, of a blonde haired boy with red energy flowing off him, feral and animalistic, wild in his desire to protect his friends. “Naruto?” she says, wanting clarification if she guessed right.

The room falls silent, tense with knowledge she can’t comprehend.

“Naruto Uzumaki, right?” she asks again. She looks up to Stick Guy for direction, but he just stares at her with wide eyes. All of a sudden the room is a blur of motion, the old man barking orders and people rushing out of the room. She watches in surprise as in under a minute, a room crammed with people clears out, leaving only Stick Guy, an old lady, the old man, and the ponytailed guy.

The old man motions with the hat and says, “Hokage.” He then takes a hand and places it upon his chest. “Hiruzen.” He places the hat upon his head and says “Hokage Hiruzen.”

She stares at him for a moment before tentatively repeating, “Hokage Hiruzen?”

He nods. “Hokage Hiruzen.”

What the heck does that mean, and who cares? Why is it important, she thinks to herself. Is he trying to say his name or something? She bites her lip and looks at Stick Guy again, wanting help. Stick Guy only stares back at her, something dark and foreboding swirling in his eyes. She sighs and rubs her forehead, a headache forming behind her eyes. “I don’t understand. Hokage Hiruzen? Hokage?”

“Hokage, hai,” says the old man.

“Hokage,” she repeats, before suddenly a string of words related to that word spring to mind. “Hokage. Sandaime. Sarutobi Hiruzen. Konohagakure. Naruto. Hokage.” She blinks, literally having no fucking clue about what was going on. She pinches her nose again. “Hiruzen. Hokage Hiruzen, Sandaime Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen?”

The old man smiles and nods, affirming, “Hai.”

“Oh. So we’re doing names then.” She scrunches her face up, trying to remember these important things. Names are important things. She should remember them, especially if these people where this invested in her. Maybe this was her family! She points at the old man, ignoring the twinge of fear that coils in her gut still just at the sight of him. “Hiruzen.” She moves her finger to the ponytailed man, those same strange half-remembered words floating around in her mind. “Nara? Yeah, Nara. Nara Shikamaru?”

The ponytailed man sucks in a sharp breath, before stiffly shaking his head no. “Iie. Shikaku. Nara Shikaku.”

“Oh, sorry. Shikaku.” she smiles, happy that finally her faulty memory was getting her somewhere. She looks to Stick Guy and finally remembers why he is so familiar. She plucks the stick--senbon?--right from his lips and grins, “Genma!”

Genma smiles shakily at her and nods, reaching out to take his stick back.

She beams back at him, before prattling off every name she can remember in hopes that she’ll get to her own. “Genma, Raidou, um, Shikaku, Inoichi, Chouza, Shikamaru, Ino, Choji, Kiba, Hinata, Shino, Shibi, Hiruzen, Konohamaru, Asuma--”

For some reason, everyone but her is really stiff and pouty, but she keeps going.

“--Iruka, Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, Itachi.” Her face darkens and she remembers a man with bandages. “Shimura Danzou, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Shisui, Tenzou Yamato, Hiruzen, Uchiha _Madara_ \--”

The door slams shut and she jumps with a squeal. The room is entirely empty now, save for herself and Genma. Genma looks like he’s going to have a heart attack, and his arm around her is squeezing tight enough to be uncomfortable. She squirms in his hold, and he mumbles something as he loosens up. She pouts at him, plucking the senbon from his mouth again and setting it aside on the bed. Vague recollections of someone comforting her lazily float by in her mind, and she copies them, gently patting Genma on the head before tugging him down with her on the bed. Distractedly, she snuggles up to him and wraps him up in a big hug, whispering, “Hush hush, you’ll be fine, dear.”

He feels tense in her arms, but she’s tired and trying to catch her memories, so she doesn’t care. It takes only moments for her to start falling asleep. As she does, she recalls every name she mentioned that day, and tries to remember something significant about them. When she is nearly unconscious, Genma wiggles out of her hold and mumbles something. Her last thought, as she feels Genma drag a hand through her knotted hair, is if she will ever remember her own name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sory no post in long time >.> life is hard.


	20. Quietly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hokages gotta make some tough choices sometimes, yanno.

Hiruzen stares out of the magnificent windows of his office, gaze following the brilliant lights of Konoha proper. He watches as civilians and shinobi alike walk side by side, conversing about mundanities. The setting sun paints the ground and mountain a rusted orange, casting long shadows in contrast to the peaceful buzz of an ordinary day in Konoha. A few leaves dance with the wind, outlined darkly against the dying sun, and as they fall, Hiruzen rises from his seat. The Hokage of Konohagakure understands the responsibilities that come with his position. Regardless of his personal values, the Village comes first. Hiruzen will do whatever it takes to keep his Village in peace.

“Tell Inoichi he is back on the case,” Hiruzen says quietly, gaze enraptured with the peaceful imagery of his Village.

Behind Hiruzen, with the Hokage desk in between them, Shikaku startles slightly after such a long silence. He glances towards Rei, who stands next to him, as if to ask if they both heard the same thing. The scandalized tilt to Rei’s eyebrows confirms his suspicions. Shikaku questions, “But sir, you said--”

“Don’t question me, Commander.” The Hokage orders, turning his head just enough for Shikaku to catch a glimpse of Hiruzen’s steely gaze. “Simply do as I say.”

Shikaku stares, a little wide-eyed as suddenly the power of the Hokage washes over him. The shadows around the Nara wiggle slightly in response to the pressure, and Shikaku tightens his hold on his own hands, clasped behind his back as they are. Rei shifts uncomfortably, face twisting into a frown and beginning to perspire, unused to the weight of such immense chakra. The Head of Hospital can only swallow against her instincts to flee, standing as tall as she dares.

Hiruzen takes a deep breath and quells his swirling chakra. In light of what he has learned today, his precarious control has slipped one too many times. Hiruzen tilts his face up as the sunset finally reaches his office. Bathed in light and assured it is a sign from his predecessors, Hiruzen commands, “You will gather everyone that has been assigned to this case. Researchers, healers, interrogators, nurses, even the gate guards that brought the girl to us in the first place. I want their memories wiped clean.” 

Shikaku breathes in sharply and Rei gasps softly. Hiruzen continues on, uncaring about their opinions on his decision. This is the way it must be. This is the only way to keep the peace. “I want all documents placed under SSS-rank.”

“There’s an SSS-rank?” Rei says under her breath. Shikaku shoots her a sharp look for silence.

Hiruzen tactfully ignores Rei’s quiet question. Civilians weren’t supposed to know about anything beyond S-rank, but this situation calls for some skillful maneuvering of the law. “You may select up to five individuals, including yourselves, that will attend to this case. Obviously Inoichi must be one of them, but other than that, I will leave the choice up to you. Make sure that whomever you choose will be able to continue researching chakra effectively, will care for the girl, and can keep _quiet_ about it. Secrecy now takes precedence over all else.”

Shikaku understands on a primal level that his Hokage is in that strange state between predator and prey. The Commander has witnessed it plenty of times in cornered shinobi, ninja forced to choose between their life or another’s. For all it may seem that Hiruzen is simply admiring the sunset, the Hokage’s words indicate that he is practically preparing for a cold war. The tension in the air, the barest breath of wilderness in Hiruzen’s normally calm chakra, even the way the Hokage stands tall. Shikaku recognizes the stance from when Hiruzen first publicly announced Konoha’s involvement in the Third Shinobi World War. The Commander silently promises to himself to review the events in the hospital room and figure out what exactly the girl said to put Hokage-sama in such a state.

Hiruzen admires the brilliance of the sun sinking below the tops of the Hashirama trees surrounding Konohagakure. The waning sunlight shimmers across the treetops, and the trees appear even more fuller than before, as if absorbing the sun itself. It is a glorious image that Hiruzen hopes to remember for the rest of his life. “I want daily reports and twenty-four hour protection for that girl. Every seven days I will go and personally interrogate her. Your objectives are to adapt her body to our world enough for her to survive, and to teach her a way to communicate with us. That girl will tell us everything she knows about us and our world, and once that’s done, she will tell us everything about _her_ world. We will use her knowledge to prepare the Village for any future enemies and further our research in technology and weaponry. That girl is key to our success. You will take all precautions necessary to keep her existence safe and away from prying eyes, am I clear?”

“Hai,” say both the Jounin Commander and the Head of Hospital. They glance at each other again, curiosity and uncertainty clear in their eyes, but neither dare to voice their concerns. The Hokage of Konohagakure breathes in deeply, shoulders shifting with both breath and the weight of his most recent decision. 

“Good,” Hiruzen murmurs. “You are dismissed.” The other two occupants clear the room and close the doors gently behind them.

The sun finishes its descent, and in the absence of light, darkness swarms through Konoha’s streets. Within moments, shadows swallow the Village from his very sight. Hiruzen sits down in his chair, eyes still staring out the window. The Hokage raises his left pinky and taps it twice on his desk. A figure materializes behind his back, painted animal mask peering out from a camouflaging genjutsu. “Get Danzou,” the Hokage orders quietly.


	21. Neither Do I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tough (read:illegal) decisions~

“You want me to _what_?” exclaims Inoichi.

Shikaku stares hard at his genin teammate, trying to impress upon him just how precarious their situation is. “Hokage’s orders,” he grunts. “Don’t ask questions, Inoichi. Just do as I say.”

Inoichi gapes at the Jounin Commander, speechless by the casual disregard of one of Konoha’s most essential laws. “But Shikaku, that’s a direct violation of the law! I-I can’t just seal their memories like that, it’s a very delicate and dangerous procedure.” 

Seeing no visible reaction from Shikaku causes Inoichi to leap to his feet, gesturing wildly with his hands in an effort to get his point across. “I-I need consent, Shikaku! The subject has to undergo examinations from two separate doctors, and I’ll need written permission from the subject and the medical examiners. I need to set up a room, and I need to prepare materials for the procedure. I need time with the subjects so as to not harm their psyche! Shikaku, you’re-you’re asking me to break so many laws that I can’t even count the number with both hands!” 

Shikaku says nothing, coolly leaning against the wall. Inoichi clenches his fist at Shikaku’s nonchalant attitude.

“You want me to wipe not one, not two, but 30 minds, Shikaku. Including Chouza, our _teammate_ , and Ibiki, my _student_!” Inoichi exclaims. “I don’t understand, what could’ve possibly transpired to warrant such drastic measures? The Psyche Laws were created exactly to avoid this kind of problem--”

“The _Hokage’s word is law_ , not anyone else’s!” snarls Shikaku.

Inoichi rears back at Shikaku’s fierce shout. Shikaku takes a deep breath and pushes off the wall, walking over to his lifelong teammate and laying a careful hand atop Inoichi’s shoulder. Shikaku allows some of his fear to color his features, eyes wide and beseeching on his fellow Head of Clan. “Please, Inoichi. Don’t be troublesome. Just do it.”

Inoichi nervously wets his lips. “...Okay. I don’t like it though.”

“Neither do I, Inoichi.” sighs Shikaku. “Neither do I.”


	22. Whimpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange things are afoot in our little girl's mind.

Unlike the last time she was awake, she’s more in control of herself and her own actions this time around. Less clingy and goofy, more reserved and put-together. And perhaps a little grouchy, due to her headache and stuffy nose. She’s managed to ignore the tight, thick feeling of breathing air-water, but it still bothers her on a fundamental level she doubts she’ll ever be able to shake. She’s also noticed that the more people in her room, the worse it gets to breathe. There’s something in the air and around the people of this place that thickens and solidifies every time they come near her. It’s like a bubble or aura or something, and she can sort of feel it? It’s difficult to explain and terribly confusing. Instead of focusing on that, she’s tried to direct her attention to her two main problems; a) communicating with the personnel and b)regaining her memories.

Unfortunately, she hasn’t gotten far with either one.

“I’m so confused, Genma,” she sighs, wiggling out from underneath the hospital sheets. The man sitting in the chair next to her bed glances up and tosses her a waning smile. She studies him, noticing the nervous chewing of his long metal toothpick and the deep circles beneath his dark brown eyes. 

She blinks, and the image of another man overlays Genma’s. She stares, wide-eyed and mouth slowly dropping open, as the man smirks at her. It’s a simple kind of smirk, nothing teasing or overly happy about it, just a natural tilt of the lips. It takes her breath away. His flowing black hair hangs somewhere beyond his shoulders. There are flyaway strands peeking out of his ponytail, and a strong urge to twist her finger around one of those rebellious curls nearly overwhelms her.

Genma snaps his fingers in her face, and she jolts backwards with a gasp. Her head bonks against the wall and she hisses at the shock more than the pain. Genma clicks his tongue at her and smoothes a gentle hand over the area of injury, testing it to see if there is any serious damage. He mumbles something under his breath, brows pinched in a worried frown. She knows Genma cares for her, on some level, and she appreciates him too, yet all she can do at the moment is compare his image to the one of the man she just saw.

Genma and her may be friends, but the companionship she feels with Genma is nothing compared to the rush of intense emotions she felt for that man. She just wishes she could see him again, see his boyish smile and twirl his hair around her fingers, maybe even braid it for him. She doesn’t quite understand her connection to him but she … loves the stranger? Why would she feel so intensely for someone she doesn’t recognize, for the afterimage of an hallucination? 

“I wish you could understand me,” she mumbles. Genma freezes, halting his hand that was gently carding through her tangled hair. His brow pinches again, and he mutters something under his breath. She tries for a smile. “Yeah, that’s what she said.” The half-hearted attempt at humor doesn’t help. She gently rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling, thinking of the boy with beautiful long hair. She misses him, even though she certainly doesn’t remember ever having met him. She sighs again and throws her left arm over her eyes. She hears Genma settle back into his chair. For a long moment, she contemplate the random appearance of the boy with long hair, and debates the pros and cons of falling asleep.

Someone giggles close to her ear.

She jolts halfway off the bed, choking on her breath. Genma jumps to his feet, a flash of silver peeking from between his right hand’s fingers as he yanks the senbon from his mouth, ready to use it as a weapon. She scans the room, eyes staring intently at every nook and cranny. Another cheery laugh sounds to her right, and she whirls around to face it with a snarl.

“Where are you?” she yells. “Show yourself!” She and Genma wait a long moment, but nothing happens. Genma sighs deeply, placing the senbon back between his lips. Frustration curls in her belly, and she glares at him. Can’t he hear it? Why isn’t he doing ninja stuff and taking down the enemy already?

A flash of yellow and pink out of the corner of her eye has her leaping to her feet. Considering she’d been in a coma for who knows how long, she collapses instantly upon putting weight on her weak legs. She goes down on her knees hard, a dull thump sounding from where she slams into the tile. She grunts at the impact, shrugging it off, even as Genma swoops down fast with a startled yelp. He hooks an arm under her, quickly checking for any lasting injury and speaking sharply. She assumes he’s lecturing her. 

“Stop talking, please. It doesn’t matter because I can’t understand you,” she mutters grouchily, taking his help and fumbling back to her feet. “It’s just annoying, and a useless waste...of...energy...” Her voice trails off as she spots a young girl’s face appear as a reflection on the tiled floor. “God help me,” she whispers, seeing the young child’s face lift in a carefree smile.

The young girl seems to rise from the ground itself. She has frizzy hair barely tamed by two cute buns and a blue headband. Her yellow dress is dotted with pretty pink flowers, and her backpack is Power Rangers themed. Her smile transforms into a grin as she takes something out of her pocket and hands it over. It’s a lollipop.

_I hate lollipops._

The thought comes unbidden to her. Just as quickly as she appeared, the young girl fades, and suddenly it’s just Genma and herself again. She blinks, leaning unsteadily on Genma, who is speaking to her urgently and pushing her back to bed. Breathing unsteadily against a sudden wave of exhaustion, she stares dazedly towards the room’s grey door. The boy from before forms again, the girl next to him, smiling and holding hands. For the third time that day, her breath leaves her in a whoosh.

“What is happening to me?” she whimpers.


	23. Dark Eyes Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minesweep? MINDSWEEP!

“The humming bird turns over a new leaf.”

With Inoichi’s words, Otoha-san slumps onto the interrogation table. The nurse breathes deeply in her sleep. Inoichi holds his left hand in the Ram seal for another thirty seconds, before he releases it and his chakra in one go. His right hand, hovering in front of him forming half of a triangle with his thumb and forefinger, drops along with his body. He leans forward onto the table to support himself on shaky arms, panting and pale in the face from chakra exhaustion. Rei briskly steps forward from where she was previously standing in the corner of the room, waving her hands over both the Yamanaka and the nurse. She performs a basic medical scan in seconds. 

Sighing, Rei reaches into her pocket to pull out a white pill and a small bag with clear powder held within it. “Yamanaka-sama, I believe we should begin with basic chakric stimulants. I want to avoid using soldier pills if possible. Would you prefer to swallow the pill or for me to mix it in your water?”

“Pill,” Inoichi croaks. Rei silently hands over the small circular tablet, which he tosses back with a gulp of water. As Inoichi sits down to take a moment of well-needed rest, Rei turns to Shikaku and Genma. Both men lean against the wall of the all-white interrogation room. Privately, Rei believes Genma is copying Shikaku’s stance to annoy the Nara, though Rei doesn’t understand what good will come of such immature behavior. What’s worse is that the Jounin Commander seems to be falling for it, if Shikaku’s twitching left eyebrow is to be considered. 

Then again, Rei admitted to herself long ago that attempting to understand shinobi insanity practically insures oneself will become insane. She likens it to a self-fulfilling prophecy; she is also unwilling to fall victim to it.

“Who is next on the list, Shikaku?” she asks, politely ignoring Genma’s gloating smirk and Shikaku’s curled upper lip. 

Shikaku narrows his eyes at Genma before glancing down at the clipboard. “It looks like Team Moto, the ones who first found the foreigner, will arrive from a mission in about a half hour. We could finish up two more nurses in that time and then pick them up at the front gates.”

Rei casts an eye down to Inoichi and Otoha. The nurse sleeps on soundly, as she will for the next half hour. By then, Otoha will be at home, and won’t remember anything of this meeting or the foreign girl. Inoichi seems to be regaining some color at least, so Rei decides to try for a positive outlook for the day. “I want to check Team Moto before they undergo the procedure,” she begins. “Stress from their recent mission might affect their mental state, and this is already delicate enough as is. I just want to prevent any problems if at all possible.”

Shikaku nods in response to Rei’s suggestion. “Good idea.”

“Who,” starts Inoichi. He pauses, clearing his throat, and tries again. “Who are we going to keep? Between us, we already have four out of the five people allowed to keep their memories. Who will we keep?”

Rei frowns a little at Inoichi’s reminder. “I suggest Hisako, Anko, Chouza, or Tadashi. All have qualities we will need to continue with resolving this dilemma.”

“We should keep Tadashi,” interjects Genma.

“Shut up, brat, the adults are talking.” snaps Shikaku. Genma sniggers at that, but Shikaku only sighs and ignores him. “Hisako has the brains and experience from R&D. Chouza is a soldier pill expert. Both would be great to have on the team, but they aren’t necessary for success. Anko would be a nice asset, but the most she could give would be advice on chemical composition and general things like that. On the other hand, Tadashi has the Byakugan, which is invaluable to monitoring the energies within the foreigner.” Shikaku pauses, then turns and directs a glare at Genma. “I don’t like you.”

Genma smiles kindly. “It’s mutual, Commander. And I like Hisako as much as the next guy, but Tadashi has the Byakugan which will be helpful in the continued treatment of the girl, and she’s basically claimed him as a friend, so it works out well.”

Shikaku’s brow scrunches up a little. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Genma. We should keep Tadashi.”

“Wow, old man, already agreeing with me aren’t you? I knew you’d come around someday,” grins Genma.

“I _really_ don’t like you,” grunts Shikaku.

“Nara-sama, please, I expected more from you,” sighs Rei, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Whatever may have transpired between you and Shiranui-san cannot interfere with our work.”

“Oh no, nothing happened between us, Rei-sama,” Genma starts off, a smug grin growing on his face. “We just have a mutual hatred of each other, that’s all.”

“Immature,” Shikaku grouches. “Irresponsible. Indisputably delinquent. A harebrained devil-may-care foolhardy idiot with no respect for proper authority. The bane of our generation, I tell you. Look at him, look at the way he impersonates my clansmen, why I oughta--”

“Now now, old man,” Genma chuckles, “Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

Shikaku pinches the bridge of his nose and grunts, “Please do the world a favor and go jump off Hokage Mountain.”

“I knew you loved me, Commander,” crows Genma

Rei gasps at Shikaku’s vicious statement, while Genma only continues to giggle. “Shikaku, how could you say such a thing? What did Genma ever do to you?” the Head of Hospital berates.

“You ask what Genma did to me? He was born, that’s what he did,” Shikaku drawls. Genma bursts out laughing.

Rei huffs at their behaviour, scowling at the Jounin Commander. Before she can say anything else, Inoichi cuts in. “Don’t mind them, Rei-sama,” he says, straightening up a little after his short recovery. “Shikaku doesn’t mean any harm by it. Genma feeds off of annoying people, and Shikaku is just playing along.”

“Blasted shinobi,” Rei mutters under her breath.

All shinobi politely pretend to not hear the civilian. “You ready for the next one, Inoichi?” Shikaku asks.

Inoichi nods. “Yes. Please bring me Ibiki.”

Shikaku’s eyes open wide. “Are you sure? We can leave him for later on, Team Moto is coming in soon anyways, and we can--”

“No,” Inoichi says firmly. “Let’s do Ibiki now, and right after him, Chouza. Then we can do Team Moto and your cousin’s R&D team. That will give Rei enough time to do whatever examinations she has to, at least.”

Shikaku thinks it over for a moment, before sighing deeply. “If you say so…” The Jounin Commander tosses a glance in Genma’s direction. “You know what to do.”

Genma merrily salutes and hauls Otoha over on one shoulder. “I’ll bring Ibiki over after I drop Otoha-san off. Rei-sama, please go on ahead and begin examining Team Moto. I’ll contact you once we’re done with Chouza. See you later, old man!” With that, Genma shunshins away. 

Shikaku snarls, “I’m not old!”, and Rei shakes her head as she walks out of the interrogation room, muttering, “Shinobi.”  
\-----

Inoichi collapses into his chair with a groan. The Yamanaka’s hands tremble ever so slightly, and he leans his face into his palms to hide his pallor from the room’s other occupants. Shikaku walks over and lays a comforting hand on his teammate’s shoulder. Inoichi flinches at the touch.

Rei finishes her scan of Ibiki, motioning for Genma to come and take the Head of Interrogation away. “Ibiki will be fine. I noticed that was very difficult for you Inoichi, much more than the others. I gave you a chakric stimulant less than thirty minutes ago, and yet already you are depleted. Are you suffering from an ailment I am not aware of? As the medic for this procedure, I need full-disclosure from all participants.” Rei realizes instantly that her words can’t be taken seriously in light of the situation, and adds, “As much as is within my power to know.”

Inoichi snorts a little at Rei’s words. Shikaku slowly removes his hand from Inoichi’s shoulder, staring at his friend for a long moment, before resolving to put Inoichi’s odd flinch out of his mind until they are finished with their current operation. “Rei-sama, with all due respect,” begins Inoichi in a hoarse voice, “Your nurses have little to no mental fortitude in comparison to the Head of Interrogation. Ibiki’s life experiences have shaped him into a dangerous man, and that reflects onto his mindscape. Also, he was my disciple for a long time. With all the years we worked together, and in this particular field, it’s to be expected that he’s picked up a few tricks to avoid this kind of mental tampering.”

“I see.” says Rei simply, walking over and standing before the Head of the Yamanaka clan. “Please remove your hands from your face, Inoichi-sama. I need to perform a medical scan on you.”

Inoichi obliges her, though he knows she won’t find anything wrong. As expected, her face pinches a little, but she dismisses him with a nod and excuses herself to once again stand in the corner of the room. The three of them wait another five minutes until they hear Genma knock a pattern on the door. Shikaku steps forward and opens the door to greet Chouza, lazy smirk in place but dark eyes cold.


	24. Hallucinating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so our young humming bird begins her assimilation into Konoha culture through a very basic, yet necessary, step---learning the language. oh and uh yeh some other shtuffs happens too but daz not important
> 
> Or... Is it?

“Watashi no namae wa Yamanaka Inoichi-san. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” the man says as he bows. The man has long blonde hair pulled up into a kinda girly but also neat ponytail, and has a cloth headband wrapped around his head. The cloth has a rectangular metal plate inscribed with a pretty swirly leaf design. It’s strange, yet familiar, and she finds it fashionable in an odd sense. It seems to be important, considering that both men have it protecting their forehead.

He recognizes her expression for what it is; complete incomprehension. Instead of speaking in gibberish again, he straightens out and places a hand on his chest, saying “Inoichi.” She guesses it’s his name.

She points to him and repeats, “Inoichi.”

Inoichi nods and points to himself again. “Inoichi-sensei.”

“Inoichi-sensei,” she repeats.

Inoichi smiles. “Hai.”

She yawns. “Great. Now what, dipshits?” Hm. It feels good to curse again. It’s like settling back into a familiar routine. Mindless cursing always did help her cope with stressful things, didn’t it? Well now, if only she could remember it. With a decidedly bored expression, she watches as Inoichi starts setting up tables, chairs, boards, and lots of charts around the room. She wonders if that’s technically illegal. This is still a hospital room, even though it feels like she’s been here for ages. If she’s going to leave soon, shouldn’t they keep the room relatively impersonal?

Or maybe, they _aren’t_ planning on letting her leave soon…

Before she can give that much thought, Genma walks inside the room with a happy wave. She lets out a loud laugh and waves so hard she accidentally shifts the bed. Genma chuckles and moves forward to greet her, smoothing her hair down and letting her lean up to kiss him on the cheek. She feels like she probably shouldn’t be this trusting to a dude she doesn’t know, but her and Genma have really connected over the week or so that she’s been conscious. He and Tadashi are the only ones that take the time to really try and talk to her, and Genma is with her almost 24/7. She used to wonder if he had a life to live outside of guarding her. Now she thinks she might try and fight anyone who threatens to take him away.

Genma greets Inoichi cordially, and the two men begin a quiet conversation. She observes as Genma joins him in setting up the room. It’s starting to look a little like a classroom. Next to the door is a calendar, by her window is a chart with what might be Chinese symbols on it, and in front of her bed is a foldable table along with a few chairs beside it. On the table is a scroll and a brush. Why are they doing this? What are they planning? How can this help--

_Oh._

“Genma,” she starts. Genma turns around and shoots her a smile. She swallows past the lump forming in her throat and asks, “Genma, are you guys going to teach me your language?”

Genma chews on his senbon and raises his eyebrow at her. She takes a deep breath and lifts her hands, trying to think of a way to ask this. “You two,” she says as she sweeps a hand to encompass the both of them, “Teach me,” she emphasizes with a few fingers to her chest, “Speak?” she finishes by miming her hand opening and closing like a mouth talking.

Genma rolls the senbon in his mouth to his left cheek and shrugs. He starts speaking in his language, using a gesture to involve Inoichi, and then pretends to act a like a student, bending over the desk and moving the brush over the scroll, lifting his hand like he is to ask a question, and finishes by mimicking the same talking-hand she did. She blinks once, and nods. Genma flashes her a proud smile and ruffles her hair a bit, turning to respond to Inoichi when he asks a question.

She stares at the scroll and brush. Something about this, all of this, unsettles her. For some reason, she doesn’t want to learn this language. It sounds nice, learning a language for free, but it’s a lot of work that she just doesn't want to do. More importantly, she doesn’t want to do that work in a hospital. She wants to go home to her family, wherever that is, because she has some serious amnesia and apparently can’t remember shit.

Also, what’s up with that scroll and brush? Are those the default writing utensils here? Those look difficult to handle. Will she have to write with paint? That’s just silly, and messy. They should use a notebook and pencil. Those are much more efficient.

Before her eyes, the scroll transforms into a notebook, and the brush into a pencil. She grins. Much better. A tanned arm reaches forward and opens the notebook, taking the pencil in hand and scribbling something down. She leans forward, an excited smile on her face. Wow, someone left her a message, she wonders what it could be--

_I’m watching you._

Liquid ice flows through her veins. Her heartbeat accelerates, and her breathing falls out of rhythm. She reads the simple sentence again, desperate for her eyes to be playing tricks on her.

_I’m watching you._

She lets out a quiet breath, fingers grabbing at her bedsheets. Her eyes are glued to the notebook. What does it mean, why is she being watched, _who_ is watching her--Of course! As quick as she can she whips her head up, prepared to stare death in the face, grab him by the hair, and beat the living shit out of him. Instead, she comes face-to-face with Genma, who is momentarily overlaid with the image of the boy with long hair from a few days ago. She blinks a few times and before long it’s just Genma frowning down at her. 

He asks her something in a soft voice. She ignores him, looking behind him and down at the foldable table. The scroll and brush are back again. Glancing around the room, she sees Inoichi giving her a worried look. No one seems to have realized what happened with the notebook, how could nobody see that? There was a person, there was a person _right there_ \--

Or maybe there wasn’t?

Genma places a palm on her forehead, probably trying to take her temperature. He asks something of Inoichi, and the blonde nods once before walking out of the room. Frustrated, she bats Genma’s hand away. Genma sighs and sits down in one of the chairs next to her bed. A gentle tug on her arm has her looking up to meet his eyes. He smiles at her once before grabbing a book from the bag Inoichi brought. He opens it up and hands it to her. She stares at it’s foreign symbols and strange ink paintings, half of her mind trying to make sense of it and the other half cowering at a dangerous thought.

_Am I hallucinating?_


	25. I just want to go home...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's frustrated. She's confused. Most of all, she's not sound of mind. This culminates into a very cantankerous individual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:Characters may display controversial opinions, say/do things considered disrespectful, and well, etc. People aren't naturally politically correct, and this fic will be taking that into account. Views/actions expressed/taken are not representative of the author, nor of the community this fic is posted on. 
> 
> Basically, sometimes bad shit is said and done, and it can be pretty controversial, and I don't want people kicking up a fuss about it. Debates, sure, but attacks? Nuh uh. Writing is writing. Anybody who has ever written knows that characters have a mind of their own. Not saying that to take responsibility away from myself, but sometimes my characters will use language that can be offensive. If certain language/actions makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to bring it up for discussion in a respectful manner. Sometimes starting up a conversation about stuff is the best thing that can happen, because it gives everyone a chance to express themselves. Thanks, and sorry for the long mssg.

“This is fucking stupid!” She hurls the book to the foot of her bed with a yell.

Tadashi jolts away at her sudden shout, and immediately afterwards pins her with a glare. Frustrated, in pain, and filled with teenage righteousness, she scowls right back at him. “Don’t give me that look! This is--this is fucking _stupid_. I’ve been here for god only knows how long, my _everything_ fucking hurts, I haven’t gone outside in ages, and you’re trying to teach me this, what fucking language is this, Chinese? Japanese? Whatever, it’s all the the same shit anyways, and I’m not gonna learn it! It’s too fucking hard, and all of this is stupid, I shouldn’t need to learn this language anyways!”

Tadashi’s perfect eyebrow is raised high enough to imply that the only stupid one in this room is, in fact, her. Her scowl twists even harsher, and she jams a finger in Tadashi’s direction. “Shut up! What the fuck do you know, huh? You don’t fucking know me! S’mattah fact, nonya know me. I don’t even know me! I can’t remember _shit._ I can’t remember my name, I can’t remember my home, I can’t remember my family. I’ve been awake for, like, a week, asshole. _ONE FUCKING WEEK!_ Where the SHIT is my FAMILY!”

Tadashi pointedly frowns at her. It’s already obvious he doesn’t understand anything she’s saying, but she doesn’t care. She’s furious, she’s in pain, and worst of all, she’s scared. She’s scared her family bashed her head in and left her for dead, and that’s why she can’t remember anything and why they haven’t come for her. She’s afraid there was a giant fire or something that left her with traumatic memory loss and an orphan. She’s terrified that her nagging suspicion of being kidnapped is right, and now she’ll be forced to learn how to become one of _them_ , turned into a slave and meant to serve, like, a pedophilic old guy or-or-or--

She snatches up a nearby scroll and throws it open. Three days of trying to learn what Inoichi calls ‘hiragana’ has filled already a scroll and a half, and she guesses each scroll is about a couple feet long. She slaps the scroll onto her knees and yanks out the nearest brush, ink splattering over her hands and sheets. Using ink and brushes for writing is _stupid_ , using scrolls is _stupid_ , this entire thing is _stupid_ , so the mess she’s making only proves her point. Tadashi clicks his tongue at her and starts scolding her about the ink flying everywhere, but she hastily draws a house and then shoves it at his face.

“House!” she exclaims, pointing at it with her dripping ink brush. “House! Where is my house?” she asks, a hand sweeping across the room and shrugging. Tadashi pauses for a moment, blank lavender eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. She slaps a hand onto her forehead, accidentally smearing ink all over her face, before quickly sketching a stick figure next to the house. “Me,” she emphasizes, pointing to the stick figure and then back to herself, “my house,” punctuated by another tap of her ink brush at the drawing of the house, “ergo, my house,” she circles the entire image, it’s ink drooping down the scroll. “Where. Is. My. House.”

Tadashi’s eyes widen a little--she steadfastly ignores how it looks like a blind guy seeing for the first time--before he sighs again. Gently, his hands pry loose the brush and scroll from her fingers. “Hey!” she snaps. “Answer me! Where is my house?” He continues to ignore her, pulling the stained sheets off of her. “Tadashi!” He looks at her, sighs, and shakes his head, turning away to place her studying materials back on her desk and folding up the sheets.

Angry tears start forming in her eyes. What does that even _mean_? She asked Tadashi about her family and he just shakes his head no? Does-does that mean they’re dead? She sniffs loudly, torn between wanting to scream and wanting to cry. Is she lost? Or did...did her family throw her out? She rubs the snot from her nose with a rough swipe, then slaps her hands down on her bed and heaves herself up to sit straight without help of anything or anyone. “What the heck’s that supposed to mean? Huh? Where is my family? Why haven’t they picked me up yet?” she shouts.

Tadashi ignores her.

“This is fucking insane!” she wails. “I’ve been stuck her for ages, I hurt everywhere, no one is telling me anything, everyone speaks gibberish, and my family is gone!” She hunches over, tired from screeching and wheezing. “My family is gone… I can’t remember my name, god, I can’t even _breathe_ right…” She sobs weakly, her breath getting clogged in her throat along with her tears. “..I c-can’t...breathe…”

Tadashi rushes forward to try and help her breathe again. She wasn’t suffocating yet, and she was still raging mad, so she slapped his hand away. “I don’t need you,” she hisses, before devolving into coughs. Tadashi stares at her as she tries clearing her airways. Gritting her teeth against the suffocating sensation, she tries to focus on her breathing, to control it. She attempts to recreate that minty relief Tadashi always leaves her with after his hands glow green. She puts all her effort into summoning that crisp respite, because as of yet it’s the only thing she’s known to be able to soothe her raspy breaths. She _needs_ it. She _needs_ to breathe.

Nothing happens, other than another coughing fit.

Reluctantly, she lets the nurse do his work, and he quickly smooths a glowing hand against her chest. Green light shimmers and seeps into her skin, peppermint cooling the sticky warmth clogging her airways. She wheezes through a few breaths before she can finally breathe steady again. Tears trickle down her cheeks, and snot dribbles its way out of her nose. She sniffs loudly and pushes Tadashi away with an indignant huff, throwing herself onto her pillow. Grouchily, she rubs her tears and snot away, muttering, “I hate you. I hate this place. I hate everything. I hate all of this. I hate...I...Fuck all of you. Go-g-go die, or something. Fuck off.” She hiccups and shudders through another cough. “Damn it all, I just want to go home…”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to call this the “Realistic Occurence of Events If One Was To Be Transported into the Narutoverse” AU. Or, the “No-BS” AU. Or, “The Shit Is Real” AU. Yeah, I like that last one! Okay! This is now officially “The Shit Is Real” AU! Welcome all, to this wonderful, sarcastic, mostly-comical and borderline-dramatical adventure/pursuit of happiness while one is stuck in a world that encourages brainwashing, death, warfare, emotional manipulation of youngsters, totalitarian and dictatorial governments, politicking based on life-or-death scenarios in which the participants have no control over their own lives, slavery, PTSD, and wow I could go on FOREVER but yeah.
> 
> I just loooove the Narutoverse ^^ (no really I do, that wasn’t sarcasm, I’m a total nerd for it. For most of it. For some of it--OKay so I’m not THAT much of a nerd for it as I should be, considering I’m writing fanfiction about it, but if I fuck anything up I will be depending on YOU, lovely reader(s), to tell me, since I can’t edit out/in what I don’t know.) Thank you very much for checkin’ this out!


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